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Personal Note:

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Poem

The high life is the cause of the drug trafficking lifestyle,
A kilo of contraband, can gain a man/woman respectability
on demand,
Transatlantic flights to and fro, only makes their fortunes grow,
Selling their junk to the suburbs and ghettos,
where the folks are overtaken by their vices,
Making them weak and mello,
Causing their children woes,
The authorities are willing to look the other way,
as long as they get a piece of the "take",
Many will use themselves as vessels,
no one's the wiser until a body part breaks,
Drug mules, they are called, because
they have no limit,
Any quantity will do
as long as they reach their financial
zenith,
Even then, they are never really through,
Their spirits are barren and can easily
be filled by the poisons they transport,
Their souls are empty and their integrity
lacks merit,
Yet, they never give up,
Always on the prowl for compromised
cohorts.

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