bench man person night

One Last Puff

Just this one time, one more puff before I come clean;
Now, I have been saying this to myself from ages and years.
Soon the days became years and the years became aeons,
But the never-ending desire to want more remained.
The wanting of one last puff! The haunting of one more puff!

The night has come, and the people have gone to the slumber.
Lost in thoughts and utterly alone, my mind went numb.
Remembering the sad events, remembering the days I cried;
I can’t remember a shoulder I leant, except for the blurry smoke.
For it was there when I cried, it was there when I laughed.

Little did I know that it’s a venom that I ingested.
Making my emotions linked and chained to it;
I have made it my master and had become its slave.
I thought I had control and believed to be its owner.
Before I knew that the tables have turned,
I had already lost all my control! Submitted to the demon!

I have sold my soul to the smoky devil;
The devil of delusions; imagery of happiness.
I thought I’m done with it, the moment I realised.
But it still deceived me in every moment ever.
Knowing that it controls me, I had done many rebellions.
But all came to the same end by submitting to it again.

I told my friends and caretakers that I’m done with this poison.
My assurance had turned to lies, and so did gone their trust.
Hard for me to trust myself, for it is me that was deceived.
Every night I say to myself, I’m relieved of the possession;
Every day I wake up to the thoughts, one last time and again never.

From the first ‘last puff’ to the last ‘last puff’, been thousands of it;
Seen me shamelessly, deceiving myself once again, forever.
For every first puff, I hate myself, for every last puff, I crave more.
Will this loathing ever end? Will there be one true last puff?
Cannot say. Because I don’t know. Lost trust in myself forever.

I hope the last puff will remain the last one.
But I wish that someone put a chained restrain,
For I fear that I will want yet another last puff.
The smoky demon is in the air, and my brain calls it,
I wonder when comes the day when I will truly slay.
I wanna come outside and breathe fresh air,
with no thoughts of, that one last puff!

Published by

Manoj Sri Harsha

A filmmaker who's also a philosopher and I have always been a writer. My urge to tell stories have provoked and boosted me to write my thoughts out as words, sentences and essays! I treat storytelling objectively and would always try new things to tell any story in a different way. Big fan of the Avant-garde!

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