Open Letter To My Smokes
By Robin

My bed is full of ashes
It feels like my mouth is too
I think my desk is covered in butts
And I think I'll blame it on you.

I was told you would cure my writer's block
'Cause all I could write was sap
But here I am, down to smoking butts
And I'm only writing this crap.



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The above is copywritten to me. And, oddly enough, this time I don't mind saying that. Wonders never cease.