Irritation, boredom, and anxiety
Growing quick like weeds consuming miracle grow
There's an abundance of addicts like me
Some are private and discreet, others just let it show
Personally I enjoy the burning sensation as my lungs fill
From a bong that towers like old Oaks
Harmless compared to beer or pills
Unless you count the wonderful pain as I choke
When the thick ghost white fog has lifted
The echoes of my cough have faded
A fire red, valley low my eyes shifted
All of my worries and concerns suddenly belated
Few know how to flip a frown as good as this
A shoulder to lean on, helping hand, but I call it cannabis
well, well, well, here is a nice work of art with a nice structure, the meaning is clear and deep. nice penning, keep up the good work Dear Joseph Good job!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice and unusual poem! Good work! CAK