Air-The Drug Poem by Scarlett Charlotte

A compulsive habit- is to - breathe,
When firmly suited with this air
A drug of waning opulence
Administered with a doctor's care.

To die- The surest way to go,
Successive, sweetling, and pain free
Just taking gulps- addictive grabs,
And let the time construe- with thee.

Addicts aren't just human shapes.
A beetle- with the greatest care
Conspicuous- great natures spy
Unfolds his sails and treads on- air.