I wrote this poem last night and found this image and story on http://www.grandmasgraphics.com/boy_cigar.php. I find it interesting how this boy and I have the same reaction to these comparable substances.
Fine Wine and Other Non-Desirables
What wickedness is this?
It stings my lips.
Is it poison or pleasure?
How is it I am indifferent
when others crave it
and consider it treasure?
Has my lack of desire dulled me?
Am I living life too carefully?
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