Secondhand Smoke


The ticking of the clock
means another bomb
is about to go off.


She raises her voice;
he raises his fist.


And I lower my head
as my eyes well up.


I'm the byproduct of their mistakes
so does that make me
the reason for their problems?


I inhaled their hatred
and called it my own.


I breathed those hand-me-down words
back out at anyone who came too close.


They filled my lungs
with the pain of rejection,

but I don't want to choke.


I was exposed to the fumes
of my environment,
but I don't want to be
the victim of secondhand smoke.


Will I be the one to
break the habit?


Will I be the one to
rise above the ashes?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by: "Secondhand Smoke" by Kelsea Ballerini

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