Burnt Again

Lighted a cigrette and let it burn. That smoke spiraled in an isolated room. Yes, that silky white stink twisted and filled his room. Limited light source seemed red and dangerous. Reflected on his face as if blood gushed on it. He heard mosquitos' wings flapped. The humming insects wouldn't leave him along.

He didn't light the tobacco to expel them bugs. He did so to watch that white, smokey fibers curled in the dim, red light. He imagined only if they would come back. Only if they would come back and see this despair scene. It would drive them wild and mad. Thought about this and he shivered. His tear dropped in fear. Once a strict, silent old man always taight me valuable lesson by action. Once a wordy yet caring female brought him up. Once an older resemblance of himself always reached him when he was weak. Once a beautiful, smiley youngster made him feel like a resposible man. They've all gone.

They have gone into that corner that he drove them into. The corner that he was sitting beside. He let them watch him dance and circle like a poisonous fume. He put red lights on them to make them feel threatened by his own moves. One after another, criticisms and blames were made. One after another, the passion turned cold. One after another, they became strangers to him and left that room. They left him their along to watch the consequence that he resulted.

It was all too late. "Try not to run away from me, please." He shouted, with a muted voice. But no one answered. Ones who would have answered to his cry were already away, and they have never tried to run. Again and again he betrayed their trusts. Only the red light, the dancing smoke, the cigarette, and the mosquitos were left to accompany him in this room. Though it wouldn't be for long.

He cigarette dropped to the carpetted floor, just like the time before.