Lifetime Addiction

Nicotine
you make my blood stream scream,
and I dream
of a day where I won't need your say
how my body should work,
please shirk, off my skin,
the duty within should be
cleansed with opportunity.

For,
I cannot see what is essentially me.
The way things should be
grow free,
like grass around a tree.

Addicted to your pain,
pleasure's taken with a grain
of salt.
Feign to be at fault
for my actions, reactions,
and especially inactions.

You are what makes me suffer,
you are what makes me struggle,
for, I am usually A-O.K.
unless my thoughts are muddled.

It is then that I reach for your malice,
and grasp a golden chalice
to forgive me of my sinful say
to let you in, by force
of fallacy.

It kills me, it does,
and, in response is thus:
To softly sigh and die of smoke
is not a lifestyle, but a joke.

So toke until you croak
and know that it is true, that
life will be vain,
death will be pain,
you'll die and join the queue.