What's the difference between a cigarette and a stick of liquorice?

The joy of bringing them to your lips is intoxicating,
the smell causes dreams, hallucinations if you will.

Watching him take it between his mouth,
and see the bitterness slither down to the froth-corrupted lungs.

It's better to stay quiet than to interfere,
the trouble you get into when you disobey.

To think that the small stick between your thread-like fingers can cause inhumane suffering.

Burning. Just like the death stick he has in his grip but then the regret soon fills you up,
clouding your mind like the smoke in the room.

You suddenly feel small,
the taste in your throat is obscene as cancer, bitter as gall.

The slam of the front door is the last you hear.

What's the difference between a cigarette and a stick of liquorice?

The ecstasy that takes over.

--
an idea for a fic that i'll never prolly write :/