If one compressed a smile into
A brew, a concoction, a molecular grin.
Would you trade what makes you who are ,
for the artificial kindness within?
If what once could flood a page with words
From tobacco clouds and whiskey rain,
Was that which sent you off, and into
The nether kingdom of Dante's reign.
Would you become a soldier
For a life of Chemical Happiness?
I would sooner swallow my sadness.
For at least I know it is natural.