They tell me, "Just breathe air,"
As if it's that easy to repair
The damage done, the habit made,
But they don't know how deep it's laid.
I wasn't trying to be cool,
No, this isn't some foolish tool
To blend into the crowd or chase a trend—
It's the only thing that makes the shakes end.
The first hit was a spark, a small escape,
Now every breath feels like it's laced with tape,
Binding me tighter with each inhale,
A crutch I lean on, when my strength starts to fail.
They say, "It's weak, just quit, it's cringe,"
But they don't know how my body hinges
On this cycle of needing more,
A prison built without a door.
I crave it, the nicotine rush,
Without it, my mind becomes a crush
Of thoughts too loud, a skin too tight—
It's the only way I make it through the night.
I know I'm chained to it, I know it's wrong,
But telling me to stop won't make me strong.
The withdrawal digs its claws in deep,
And the promises I made myself I cannot keep.
I'm not weak—I'm just caught,
In a battle that's harder than they ever thought.
This isn't for show, not a trend to embrace,
It's an escape from a war I can't seem to face.
So when they say, "Just breathe air,"
They forget it's a fight just to care.
It's not about being cool or free—
It's about the smoke that quiets the storm in me.
YOU ARE READING
poems by me
PoetryI write poems when I'm sad, so I've decided I want to share them. Current trigger warnings: Mentions of self harm Mentions of addiction Brief mentions of sexual assault If you or a friend need help, please get it. Australia Queensland: Mental hea...
