Errors.

We pick up bad habits as we stroll through life
We try to shake them, but they cling on tight.
I picked up my darlings on the way to nowhere,
as I brood about it, I smoke one of them away.

The lighter clicks sparing me a silent satisfaction,
and the golden flames burn with a gay realisation.
It puffs with pride as the paper burns and the leaves
in lieu provide simmer to my errors.

I sit on the terrace with a brick as friend,
I smoke away my worries as I call in a few debts.
The mellow sky mocks me with white clouds,
I, irked, smirk through my loose grey shroud.

The Brick kindly sits next me,
aware of the delusions, which I readily believed.
Brick is a better man than I will ever be, you see
For it just smiled politely as I grew dull,
And only tsk'ed as I lulled feeling Oh so free.