3.12.21 – Sonnet 420

Shall I compare thee to a ditch’s weed?
Thou art more dank and more loud.
Fully robust with buds of THC
That fill my veins, my brains to shroud.
My eyes may be glass, but I’m not blind
To the green you proudly boast.
You flick my Bic now I must find
Another light, but I am toast.
Just a plant you do no harm
Apart from harm we do ourselves.
Yet you are banned: a false alarm.
Scheduled 1, forever shelved.
Mexico’s proposal blesses cannabis for fun.
Americans resent that we may be the only one.

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