Euphoria in smoke

Like a forlorn cigarette bud,
Worn out and crushed between your fingertips,
caressed, yet a sweeter poison.
How much of hate did it encompass to watch,
watch and watch and yet stare a little more, 
at people walking by, living their stories,  
completely unaware of the crumbling, stinging words,
Or the destroying tsunami of tears,
Or even the constant beauty of a smile.
A little wounded but who would care? 
Heartlessly wiping away blood on clothes 
To see a younger, “you” , overspilling , 
flowing from the edges,
painted in blood and coloured in pain, 
like the wisps of rings of smoke, 
pecking lips and kissing cheeks as they pass away,
insignificantly unknown, 
knocking on a stranger's ignorant consciousness, 
But somehow suffocating care in lingering disgust,
choking love with obsessing desires,
admiring souls falling apart, 
swimming out of the oceans of dreams,
and recessing in the tide of times.
I had seen bodies hanging in,
and hanging from the ceilings,
floating in euphoria,
breathing in regrets,
and yet, I was left with nothing but a cigarette bud, to relieve it over and over again,
with all that's left,
with all this pain, 
enclosing it within my eyes,
blending it with my being ,
and letting it flow,
because all i know and am left with,
are a few ashes from the cigarette buds I had smoked.
To forget, to ignore , to let go,
To turn laughter to smiles , 
from caring to barely knowing,
how flowers wilted,
how that random person died,
and eventually grow 
in dust, to mix in dust, 
Suddenly finding it a blessing to be barely a speckle in the cosmos
Why should I care?