You take out the gun, your hands’re trembling
You pull the trigger, you’re shocked
The person is killed
There is fear inside you
Yet, you are thrilled
You kill more and more
You are addicted
You have found the love of your life — Killing
Note to myself
Another quick production of poem without much editing. I am not a smoker. I have this idea from a Cantonese movie where a man finds the thrill of killing people after his first killing. The killing metaphor is just like the smoker’s killing.
Smokers may not realize how much the life of a non-smoker has changed. The least that a smoker can do to his / her loved ones, is not to kill them a.k.a. smokes in front of them.