A beautiful poem from a cannabis patient

>A beautiful poem from a cannabis patient:
> I am a cannabis patient, but did not start out to be this way,
> For me cannabis is not a pass time or a game, it is how I am able to get
> through the day,
> My heart is weak and the cause for my sorrow,
> Cannabis has given me more time to borrow,
> I do not ask that you lend a hand,
> Just keep an open mind and try to understand,
> I am not a bad person, and had never before broken the law,
> I am a wife, a mother, a hard worker, but that is not all,
> After exhausting all other options, after all other chances failed,
> A choice I was given, which gave me the means to prevail,
> A plant that grows wild, been used for thousands of years,
> My life owed to cannabinoids, as naturals as my own tears,
> Cannabinoids found inside this plant and every one of us,
> This plant can help and heal you and me, so what is all the fuss?
> My medicine is outlawed, and the road lies layed,
> For so very long, the powerful weaved their lies and the game they played,
> The game that has cost me so much, family, security, and even a piece of
> my
> heart,
> Do you truly think I would do this, after living all that, if I was able
> to
> play any other part?
> From the last doctor, in a long line, I got a pat on the head, and a
> pained
> look,
> Medical Science has no options for me, nothing will work, not in their
> book,
> Cannabis, he said, worked like a dream, surprised as he was, it was no
> lie,
> It was buying me time, it was buying me life, but I must hide,
> For people do not understand or know, the truth that is there,
> For so long the people did not seek truth or care,
> One day you or someone you know, standing in my shoes, will be ready to
> go,
> One day a choice will be made, break the law and fear the blow,
> Just to live longer, see the kids grow,
> Make it through just one more show,
> My choice was clear, and so in fear I live,
> Knowing they have no compassion to give,
> There are more people like me then you may think,
> I am your sister, daughter, mother, boss, teacher, doctor, neighbor, and
> mystery lady by the sink,
> You may never know, risking everything if I tell,
> You finding the truth will save me though, it will ring my Liberty Bell,
> The truth /will/ set me free, give me the peace I so long for,
> Unless you walk in our shoes, most do not open that door,
> Lies and truths colliding, behind close doors, wars are waged and
> alliances
> form,
> In all of this, /you/ have forgotten/ me/, the sick person, the one who is
> not the norm,
> Seek the truth, look into all the faces, hear all the voices,
> Understand and respect that I also need choices.
> By Lisa Barnett


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