Released from the hospital's embrace so tight,
A fragile soul, caught in life's endless fight.
The Zulu strain's allure whispers in my ear,
A bittersweet temptation, drawing me near.

Just out of healing's reach, I stand alone,
The bong's call echoes like a mournful tone.
To drown my sorrows in Zulu's haze,
To find solace in its smoky maze.

A dance with darkness, a momentary escape,
As the Zulu bong offers a tranquil tapestry of drapes.
But within my chest, a heavy heart sighs,
Knowing this path carries hidden goodbyes.

In the curling tendrils of fragrant smoke,
I find a fleeting haven, a realm bespoke.
Yet the tears unshed, the wounds unhealed,
Remind me of truths that can't be concealed.

For the bong's embrace may offer respite,
Yet it can't mend the fractures left in my fight.
To surrender to its call, to embrace its charms,
Is to trade one struggle for another's harms.

As the Zulu strain beckons, I stand still,
Caught between choices, at destiny's will.
In this melancholic crossroad, I tread,
Haunted by the regrets that lie ahead.

With a heavy heart, I reach for the bong,
Seeking refuge in its allure, however wrong.
In this fragile moment, I find my release,
But with it comes a sorrow that won't cease.


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