Benching A Smoke

Benching a Smoke.

As I lie upon my woven wonder.
I beg to think about what I might be to ponder.

In instant of lighting a strike of fire
I ponder weather or not I am a liar?

When I see transit owned by money,
Run for our daily people.

A read of paper, full of stories
Written by they who owns the deed of the print.

I see a world blinded by a river.
An immense river of greed and unfair deeds.


I am yet to set a single breath,
On anything put my cigarette.

My entire mind may image,
Uncertainty of our world.

Therefore I beg to think,
Do I see the reality?
Or see my deepest fear?