I am a Cigarette

by Maple Tree   Mar 24, 2026


She was born in a field...

Plucked in her tweens
Danced in baskets for
Filthy hands to fondle

Rolled, shaped and molded.

Alone in a box
Toes sucked on by strangers
As her head explodes
Into embers..

Smoldering to death
She becomes a pile...

Of ash.

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