(Crossing my legs)
"Pretty cool investment, isn't it?"
How shredded of baccies,
Wrapped in a cylinder roll paper,
Creates a sense of belief,
That it shrinks stress,
Or ritually foster focus.
I never used to fill my lungs with it,
But he planted beguiling sunflowers in it
and it grew.
Ergo, it's the only time I can seem to breathe.
I know it will be the death of me,
Yet, it is devoted.
How it never actually decipher any problems,
Even after the puffs were gone.
By what means,
I solely retreating from hiccups.
-skyf