Letter to Nico

Dear Nico,
Dear? Surely not a deserving start,
Especially as you are worse than a fart,
And the world’s most accomplished tout.

I wanted you to know it’s over.
I see you for what you are, you monster.
You scheming disguised ogre.
I am now beyond your power.

Of course you’ll say, ‘I’ve come again.’
That’s it’s just like the old days:
Days when I eventually called out your name,
And with slyness, you astutely came.

This time around it’s different mate.
I can’t believe I even called you mate!
Or even accepted you; opening my gates.
You are worse than the Bubonic plague.

A foe one cannot fight until it’s too late...
To me is worse than Ebola, the Bubonic plague,
And even worse than the dreaded AIDS.
For you, I harbor nothing but eternal hate.

One would wonder why I have condemned you so.
By the time I expose you; they see through the smoke...
There will be more people screaming for your soul.
But how can that atone for the lost souls you own?

I remember how I got to know you:
A schemer, con-man, who came in a moment of gloom.
Little did I know that you had long-term plans of doom.
Melancholy, I failed to see through you.

With a sophistication honed over several centuries,
You first dazzled me; confused me,
Then lured me with your age-old trickery.
Little did I know of your demonic ancestry.

From behind a mask of glitter and whiffs of smoke,
You offered friendship, while I traded my soul.
Yet, I failed to smell you down to your bones.
Another sucker’s soul had just been sold!
Initially, I basked in the euphoria of your friendship,
Was lost in the hazy embrace of your grip;
Tagged along on unsuspecting, deadly trips.
Little did I know that I was wasting bit by bit.

When I realized who and what you were,
As I stumbled on the smoggy marshes of your lair,
And discovered the trapped souls there,
Resignedly, I thought I would also end there.

However, my research showed that you could be beaten,
Though you were very rarely countered;
My resolve to fight you thus weakened.
‘Could I beat this ancient and crafty demon?’

What made it harder was your guile,
Your ability to flow with all eras and times;
The power to take on an addictive guise.
Coupled with this, no one wanted to listen to me whine.

I struggled against you for years and failed:
Escaping for days, only to be adroitly trailed,
Sometimes weeks, months, but eventually got nailed.
Then for two years, yet I still got re-jailed.

Was my soul to be a slave in your smoky lair?
Was I doomed to breathing-in fetid air?
If I lost to this fiend, who will care?
I remember how you mocked me with your sneer.

But I did it Nico, I beat you square;
Freed my soul from your malodorous lair.
You think I’ll ever go back there?
Never! You amorphous son of a flare.

It’s now four years since I escaped your stink...
So...just wanted you to know what I think:
Your charms have forever lost me.
Poor Nico. Oh, poor ‘Nicotine.’