Dote on his childish lures,
And with enthusiasm rose to his loving embrace.
Defiant still, he prowls to feeds his infantile curiosity.
The wilful child who boasts he owns himself,
Sets forth at dawns
To hunt the snake’s spoor.
With defiant-scythe in hands,
He seeks to eat of the forbidden fruits
Growing wild in the grove.
Now he has plucked more than he can chew
From years of opiate cocktails abuse. His mental polarity
Seem to have slightly shifted, nudged perhaps
By a diabolical bellow spell.
Now he speaks nonsensical prattle;
Trance with illusion of the grandiose;
And like a poltergeist, he flings homely things here and there.
And filed needless marches across the city.
Then everyone, the tearfully mournful mother leading the line,
Must join in cleaning the Augean stables.
And he didn’t even know it,
When, finally, he returned to his senses.
Now you know it, adorable children,
Not every addiction is good.
Stay away from drugs.
It ruins lives.
It destroys destinies.
A word, they say, is enough for the wise.
....For a defiant child.