My DRUG STORY, as written by Poet Kelly JUUZ

My Drug Story

My two eyes witnessed my 12th birthday.
Girls were rocking hell out boys.
Mother was not at home.
The party went wayward.
I noticed, some boys gyrating, so high, with smokes waving in the air.
I wondered where it came from.
I requested for a taste but no one gave me.
Sharply, I picked unfinished one from the floor, I went outside to feel it.
It was becoming more fun, as I watched the smokes dance like water pops in the air.
I returned inside, snatched another stick of cigarettes from one boy in there, I did another turn with it.
The joy became sweet, the party just turned the best ever.
Believe now, I smoke hell out.
I can see mother crying, but I am a man now.
Who is a man, if you can't smoke, asked my friend.
Oh, mother is old.
Oh yeah, mother is still a learner.
Reason, she's crying over nothing.
Smoke became my new perfume.
Every day, I could run down two packets of Dunhills.
Friends in the hood are now my best family.
What can I do without them.
Education played with my brain and I kicked education entirely, in my SS2 class.
I have become an outlaw.
Try me and see yourself in one my hood's cage.
The pain I feel in my chest makes me want more of smokes.
Smoking costs me less money than normal food.
To an extent, it turned out to be my best food.
Who said life in the hood is bad.
Oh come close and feel your head rolling on the ground.
Until one day, I touched an armored car driver.
The militia painted my skin red or was it my blood all over.
It took heaven months to bail me out.
Behold, smoke loved me to make me an enemy.
For real, I fear every smoke I see, not even one from exhaust pipe.
Say no to drugs brother.
Sister, say no to drugs.

© Kelly JUUZ
#SPATHOR
05/04 /2019
05:46PM