Lighting Up

Flick of a bic starts the day,
and the time between each-
is a chore out of my way.

I'm leaving the door open-
to feel the clean breeze,
and keep my hands hoping.

Choking smoke raizes my throat-
and with the back door open,
squirrels whore across the mote.

But who am I kidding,
the door is open for air,
and smoke isn't thinning.

The solution is clear,
but without the risk-
I hold nothing dear.

The End

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