My friend you think you know the hills and plains of my mind
They are covered in a green mystery
That only those who partake can judge
Whether it is friend to me and you or a foe which is I still
A question we all are asked
By the 4 line boxed fools filled with scarecrows
Rattling against the grain
Too afraid to touch it
Or to say fuck you to the square across the hall
This green mystified thing is for those of humanity poetry
and passion
Filling coffee shops and book stores listening to the tales
of emotion
People have to share on puff pass and poetry
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