Small Weird "Poem"

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You could call it a poem.

Drugs - The divine substance that alters are precious little minds, crushes are dreams and kill our inner spirit. Yet, we take this as a "recreational" drug. Please explain to me how sitting in a bathroom stall with that last drop of heroin sticking in your veins is recreational? The dirty shared syringe hanging from your arm. Or is it the Acid tabs that you stick in your mouth as a form of creativity you say? huh? Is it that? A form of creativity it what drives us to the point of no return, is that it? Or is it the fact that we do not listen. We stare off into the distance, not paying attention to our daily habits of life. We instead feed them. We market and distribute drugs and gain money and power from this "hobby". Is it that we must be rich and powerful from this source? Or do we have nothing else better to do than snort cocaine with a rolled up dollar bill.
Why must I say "we" and not "I"? I say "we" because we do this as a society. Societies wrapped up together without knowledge of who's controlling what and how. What must "WE" do? Nothing. We do nothing except market this profit. Drugs. Useless. Yet, we make millions of dollars of it and still try to act as if we want it off the street? Ha! How stupid. "Should drugs be illegal?" is nothing more but a rhetorical question.
 
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