My last cigarette

Leaning against this tree, inhaling cancer,
plotting my own death

the wind whispers a cold death , dry , cracked leaves dance in front of me.

Death,death,death! my brain screams, my hand trembles, the wind grows stronger, i can see my breath now

i put out my cigarette,i reach for the knife in my pocket, i hold the knife to my throat

a single, sad, tear runs down my check,
My body lies life less on the cold dead ground