Ole Faithful

A poem of sorts

You are so faithful in your deadly job,
You are predictable, trustworthy;
yes, real true blue.
Your cylinder shape fills my work ravaged hands,
Coming closer and closer
to your intended target;
Doing what you do best,
emitting your flame.
Bringing peace and contentment
to my deprived body.
How many times have I fondled your form,
Flicking your little red
button, giving you life.
You allow me to pollute others air, fill
my lungs with ole tar and nicotine.
But if I expire, it's not your fault.
For if you broke, or ran out of gas,
I would only look
for a match.