Don't worry, I haven't suddenly started fancying myself as a poet or anything. :) What I've posted here for your reading pleasure is a cliché-ridden, anti-drug poem I was forced to write over the course of a forty minute religion class in 1998. It was an entry for some drug awareness art competition/exhibition that was taking place in the following days.
Now, I'd never attempted to write a poem before this, was never good at cranking out a complete assignment during class and as usual, was stuck sitting directly in front of the teacher. Despite all this immense pressure though, I managed to cobble together something vaguely resembling poetry that even rhymes. (That's how you know it's good.) As the minutes to the end of class ran down, I was also pressed to come up with a name for literary work. "Who Cares?" wasn't a bad bit of thinking on my feet. It even works on few different levels. I mean, if you're really reaching.
Taking it home that night, I set about decorating it a little, at the teacher's behest, I imagine. The drugs on top look kind of wonky, but I'm actually kind of impressed with the wild pattern running through the lettering . It's far cooler looking than this piece of crap deserved anyway.:D
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