Just Me: The Kratik Malhotra Blog

It was 9Th grade when you first put your hand on that bud,
burning tobacco like you had heard.
First experience due to utter frustration,
then,second due to occasion.
Tobacco then,was to evade,
Weed then was to deluge.
Frequent and fearless,what you once hated,made it a habit,
From a one off,to occasional,to social,to regular,
I watched you lose you tarnish,you had every colour.
When once you laid,thinking how you used to be,
cried like insane and shrugged it off by another bud.
your perants found out but covered you with their love,
Delusion ed they were,gutted they felt.
you then decided to quit it all,
Day on,bullshit you said and hash was down your throat.
It all became a habit for you,
Demented and like an idiot,thinking powerful you laid,inept you were.
your perants not showing but couldn't shed tears,
Like a nut you said,depleted ones care.
Gutted they were and gutted who knew,
only years of God's gift left to be lived.
As I see you now lying in a coffin,
realizing how gutted you once used to be.
swayed like none other,
with a racid smell,feeling proud you walked down the road's end.
Seeing tears in your perants eyes,
Thinking how gutted they would be,
As I see you lie in a coffin,
I stand and think of us.
Where you were and how you had been,
time back had you realized,would you be here.
Gutted I stand,friend.