A poem about weed.

The typical way you want
leaves blowing, grass cutting
they clear the hallways just for us
you didn't even show up
you had lost my trust
our love was strong
leaving me for last like a pizza crust
wondering if I was wrong
this relationship is no longer happening
you smoke away
green is what makes you happy
crying desperately saying you needed weed
does that make you feel good
you'd like to waste you life on something that shouldn't be done
your lungs close tightly
you take a puff and blew
you pass it on to you friends
your eyes turn red like the blood that comes out of you
one by one you lose a friend
betting you like this sens
skin turns pale
seeing you smoking your way to your death bed
you living in a vale
that depression
dying slowly by yourself.