I clear my throat and reach for my straw, anticipating the burn that stings so raw. It leaves me sniffling and w watery eyes. But it numbs the pain I try to hide. It lifts me up when i can't pick myself off the ground, I don't have to search for it, it's always around. I prefer piles and some prefer lines, I'll make yours when I cut mine. The white powder is sharp bitter and sweet, it'll help keep you running on your feet. When life gives you lemons, grab your straw, make yourself a pile and love life wrong.