A poem About quitting smoking

The decision to quit smoking was
like a very long blunt knife .

I thrust it into my heart
to cut a habit out of my life .

Cravings for nicotine where patched as the knife twisted in my gut.

My unsteady hands held me close
as all my nerve endings were cut.

I cursed that urge that brought the scourge ,
to each second of each hour .

Exhausted I fell to my knees
and prayed that God would send his power .

On my knees my weakness became my greatest strength to fight the foe .

Although I had turned the corner ,
it was still hard to let it go .

No one heard the silent screaming
as I died to myself each day.

But the temptations eased each time I said ,
No I’ve give it away .

I’ve quit ,
I don’t smoke ,
I never did ,
Now I’m a new man today .

Blunt knives take on a sharper edge when decisions cannot be swayed .

By Paul McCann