Free will

Slender smoke dance in the air
with natural grace
and willing flair.
Although your smell
is not so great,
it's not bad enough
to earn the hate
given out
by the pious horde's
with evil looks;
tongues like swords.
Driving out
as we “should”
from our home
in the pub,
where we could talk
and share a smoke
laugh, drink and  take
another toke
upon our slender
cancer stick
that makes us cough,
then make us sick.
Now those folks
they can rejoice
they've taken away
our mortal choice,
to take this smoke
that will surely sunder
and put our corpse's
six feet under.
I do not doubt
they think of us
they care; nay worry
and make a fuss
they know better
so they provoke,
and stop us from having
our precious smoke.
All the time, I
think “still
wouldn't it be nice
to have free will”.