With the start of a new day upon me

and with a smoking cigarette in hand,

I inhale your welcoming smoke

as in my mind I tell myself

this is the last one.

But until then I say.

One last cigarette please.

When I cough until my ribs hurt

and I gasp for that much needed breath of fresh air,

with the blood spattered handkerchief beside me

and the phlegm clogging my lungs -

all I seem to ask for is.

One last cigarette please.

With the stress of the days work upon me

and the goals I had to try and achieve

I grab for my packet of twenty

and reach for that comforting tipped stick,

with a sigh of relief and a knowing of guilty pleasure

I feel all I can ask for is.

One last cigarette please.

With pipes wired up to me

and a supply of oxygen to help me breathe,

With warnings I failed to listen too

as I gave in to my habit of routine.

My life is now finally yours

as I know you will get me in the end.

But before you do all I ask is

One last cigarette please.