Disappearing into thin air,
You left behind no trace,
A thorough cleanup of this space,
Running your own little race,
Without the slightest care.

Blowing out the candle though,
Leaves behind the tiniest lead,
The smell of smoke I heed,
And patterns left behind I can read,
And clear as footprints in the snow.

A haze created by the craze,
Like a cigarette burning out,
A moment you cannot doubt,
If things should really be a bout,
In the end you're still in a daze.

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