In a haze of smoke, the night is still,
Each puff a whisper, a silent kill.
Dreams clouded, lungs turn grey,
The price of breath, a heavy pay.
Ashes fall like snow in June,
Each ember a silent tune.
Hope fades with every drag,
Life’s essence in a crumpled bag.
The fire burns, but warmth is cold,
A paradox of stories told.
Lives entwined in smoky veil,
A journey on a ghostly trail.
In the mirror, a shadow stares,
A visage lost to smoky airs.
The silent killer, a slow demise,
As ashen hopes meet darkened skies.