The cold went as quick as it came.

The early bird becomes the worm,

So they claim.

Tonight I look at stars,

Instead of fireballs of burning scars.

Bitterness brutalized me, and I ate the forbidden fruit,

And out came a toot, what a Hoot.

Now I sway in Mother’s breath,

Back down the road of unkown depth.

Spark of flame to smoke filled lung,

An itch on the tongue,

“I wonder whats next?”