Smoke Signals

Billowing mushroom-shaped clouds of grey,

Little smouldering plumes of silver that won't blow away,

Smothering, choking,

Tear-provoking,

Drugged, as if the smoke is some new sort of dope,

Swarms in every exit, lost is all hope,

Flares of amber starting to spread,

I know it's not long until I'm dead.

The End

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