Yea o.k.
You real cool.
You left school.
You did weed.
Your foul smell.
Your foul soul.
Your soul died.
Just about a month
ago.
Your friends lived.
But you chose not to.
You chose a plant.And for what? ? ?
To sit on that block and smoke
just a little blunt.
Its not just a little blunt.
Its your little life.
Think about it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem