How Can it Rain on my T.Storm

Sitting around our makeshift fire, The Fugees on the speaker. THC fills the headspace; I no longer feel second place. Killing me softly ... send him to the pond. I saw a blue heron there earlier; Uncle Dave is coughing up a lung, Old Head blowing on the embers in the fire. KR is my hearts only desire. Discipline, my pride and self esteem has remained steadfast. She boosts! Deliver me from odds and hatred around, save me kiss before they reprimand. The sky forms grey. A crack in the distance ...