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
Joseph J. Hernandez
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/comfort-42/
