Poem -

Dead at 14

Two years ago my son died from smoking Crack.
He's gone forever and nothing can bring him back.
He said he had a problem that he thought he should mention.
But I was too busy making money to pay any attention.
I was greedy and now my only son is gone.
I failed him as a father, how can I go on?
My boy was only fourteen years old when he died.
I should've been there for him but I never even tried.
His death ruined my life and it ended my marriage as well.
Now as I sit by his grave, I cry because my life is pure hell.
Please trust me when I say that Crack is something you shouldn't try.
It's a very dangerous drug and if you use it, you may die.

(Even though this is a fictional poem, Crack really is a very dangerous drug. It can kill.)

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