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Exhaust
The smell of smoke stains her satin skin
as her untainted lungs quiver in terror
from the fear of a new ebonized reality
-and the prospect of a developing illness
crawls up her throat and pounds in the crevices of her mind.
Yet this poor aftermath is one not created
from the dirt of her own hands, but rather
from the sins of another.
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I wrote this piece as a way of describing what secondhand smoke is like when one is in an environment where they can't escape it.