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The Maniac Called Drugs
This cruel maniac has crept in our town,
Wreaking havoc from the corners of our street
To the utmost glorious sanatorium of our time;
Young leaves littered our street on borrowed time,
As they sniffed plume of sacrilege powdery mildew.
Who will be vigilant to console the Inconsolable?
As precious soul shimmers in this crazy hallucination—
Our homes have become a mournful dwelling sanctuary.