Living In An Ashtray

Living in an ashtray,

Where smoke and ash hold sway,

The air is thick with toxins,

And every breath feels like a burden.

The walls are stained with nicotine,

And the carpet's yellowed sheen,

The stench of stale smoke lingers on,

A reminder of all that's gone wrong.

But still, we dwell in this place,

Amidst the ashes, soot and waste,

We try to find some light and hope,

To cope with the harshness of it all.

For though our home may seem unclean,

It's where we make our daily scene,

And despite the ash and cigarette stains,

Our love and laughter still remains.

So we'll keep on living in this ashtray,

Finding joy amidst the haze,

And maybe one day we'll break free,

From this toxic reality.

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