GROUP THERPY

I sit in this room, listening to their stories. Hell, it seems like some pity party without the cake. Whose sob story will bring tears to our eyes. First, it's the middle of a heat wave, and this white padded room has no air conditioning, and I'm dying of thirst. They speak of how some are angry, drinks being I'm the new kid on the block. They asked what's your poison. I said the flower. They replied what are you talking about with a grin on my face. I stood out of my chair and screamed I'm a happy stoner. It's only the mood swings that bring me down.