We're standing outside in a cold, blistered wind,
for a quick pull of smoke and the chemicals within?
A quick rush of joy, euphoric train wreck,
a cure made illegal for a chemist's blank cheque.
Plant matter burning, charring my lungs,
an irritated throat and a cough soon to come.
Pass it to a friend and beg them to be quick
so I can burn my lungs again - let my blood run thick.
Serotonin chained and forced to make me feel good,
yet a non-addictive substance, apt misunderstood.
Less harmful than tobacco, alcohol still worse,
a sadly brainwashed nation where impression's pre-rehearsed.

Generations plagued with loud misguided cries.
They say it makes you stupid, another heartless lie.
We'll strap a gas mask to a monkey, and force it THC.
Forget about the oxygen... I wonder what we'll see?
It seems their brain cells died - it has to be the drug!
Government made a discovery? They ought to be less smug.

But back to my friend, and I in the cold,
forced to be hidden from long outdated scold.
Celebrating beauties in the world that were forgotten,
we're told it's overrated, like fine Egyptian cotton?
I know from experience that this has to be divine:
it could not exist if the sun could not shine.
The wind has stopped blowing, the rain takes it's place,
to feel divine beauty of liquid touching face.
It is something natural, and comes from within,
wow, I'm still standing in a cold blistered wind.

Now 20
not quite 21
I do not expect
to know all the world
and all its ways
but,
I do know, 2 or 3
things about life
and how all things work.
There’s struggle,
hand over fist
and the good
is precious
uncommon, its value
gives it the power
to overcome,
and it can.
Change is constant
friends today are rivals tomorrow
or just drift away, sinking to another life
love fades quickly in times unwavering light
so does life.
Why then,
knowing these things that I do,
am I surprised?
like a host
showing up to his cancelled party
unaware of its status.
I knew of the end,
I knew change was near,
yet it caught me unprepared and unarmed.
My next lesson,
if I am so inclined to choose
is acceptance of life
before I’m 22

Today I realised my purpose of being -
I'm aging and waiting for the end of my living.
As each second passes another is lost,
for losing our seconds is our lives given cost.
You'll never feel, never see, never know this again;
this being now - and now - also then:
This is something we know, but ignored for it hurts.
But we can not forget - in memory it lurks.

Wait, no.
If the seconds are cost then what are we buying?
Is there no return that's not hurting or crying?
Have I forgotten the love, the joy in-between?
For each second pain is there not second dream?
I beg for a new eye, a new world to re-live in,
a new place with new laws and new people to believe in.
In this new world I'd be happy and free,
I'd be loved and love, I'd be lucky... not me.

No, I wouldn't be me, not in this world, anyway.
I'd be banished and gone, no new people, no betray.
I've ruined a world, but only the one,
or I've ruined my world, destroyed all the fun.
There's no more sins for me to adore,
they've all been spent leaving brilliant sore.
See I'm aging and waiting, and hurting and crying,
with the seconds I'm spending it must be this that I'm buying.
A blessèd reality, a trap painted gold,
manufactured promises with chances we've sold.
Sold for the seconds that I mentioned before,
the seconds we're spending on that brilliant sore.

*(Oh I really shouldn't think, I think way too much,
I see what this is, the world and the such.
Some people label it, call it depression,
I call it truth, just a big painful lesson.)