Once, in a frat initiation,
I was asked to inhale something by the majors.
Said it was a pure part of nature
And its piece form the purest.
“Don’t cook it,” they said,
“The scent would give a bad trip.”
So I did what they did
And sniffed the stuff in.
I knew they were shards
But I wanted my name in the charts.
I let my nose bleed,
My head losing feels.
Later, I woke up
Feeling under a cop.
I hated being caught
So I grabbed some sort of cup.
Swung it down like a judge
But it wasn’t so tough.
My head was driven to the front
And I smelled something burning up.
One of the cops was smoking stuff
And then to death he choked and coughed.
I got a whiff of it too
And then I understood:
It was that stuff I was warned about
And its name was “Justice”…just as it should.