The Lighter

A blue flame,

with a golden top.

Point me at things,

you want to make real hot.

What you light on fire,

is the choice of you.

Is it from a desire,

you’re compelled to do?

I am just a tool.

In your hand I fit.

Are you a fool,

to do another hit?

Do you inhale,

smoke of a burning mass?

Did your future I curtail,

as your life goes floating past?

What good is a lighter,

I may be confused.

When I get a human higher,

then your soul you might lose.