Analyse This Poem by Alessandra Liverani

When you see someone drag on a cigarette
They appear to be feeling great pleasure
You would like to get some of that too
You want enjoyment in the same measure

But let's do a bit of psychoanalysis
How is this pleasure achieved?
In a way you couldn't possibly have dreamt of
It's a design elaborately weaved

When you first drag on a cigarette
It's not something you will adore
You're missing out on all the thrills
You'll keep trying til you score

You try and try and wonder why
The magic just doesn't come
But then a new thought enters your mind
It starts as just a gentle hum

Nicotine's been in your body for some time
Athough you've never had any fun
But maybe, just like every other smoker
You must continue, or you'll be done

You start to think that once the poison's in
It MUST be kept filled to the right elevation
You start to worry if it's low
If it is, you feel some trepidation

Now comes anxiety, fear and worry
That you never had before
You drag in deeply, they disappear briefly
Oh, the pleasure of being so sure

That your nicotine levels, they're OK
It gives you such satisfaction
But as soon as they dropp even a little bit
You swing right back into action

You must light up no matter what
Nicotine is needed, that is clear
What did you find in those cigarettes?
It wasn't pleasure, it was fear

(Sydney, Australia - 2003)