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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Educational · #1196569
Realizing weed is not for me.
Drifting here in a daze,
seeing nothing but a haze,
the clouds of smoke twist and turn,
as the blunts end slowly burns,
the feeling in my body,
the longing forgot,
this state I missed,
being high a lot,
always in a daze,
clouds hazed,
memories gone,
flown out of my head,
cant remember anymore,
my head is sore,
too long gone without this drone,
this sound I hear only when stoned,
like a voice, telling me...
"you wont amount, you should just die"
filling me with doubt,
making me cry,
this feeling I say,
is the only way,
the only reason,
that makes me realize,
that I dont wanna be this way,
every day,
but some times one must make a stand,
the blunt in my hand,
I pass to stan,
he still has use of it,
hes not the one who needs to quit. I am.
© Copyright 2007 Jason Alexander Rose (jason_a_rose at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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