A house plant is a solid pet who never lets you down.
Despite you never did him much, ‘cept stick him in the ground.
Who else would take your “Co2”, while you don’t give a care?
To feed you copious bits of “O” so you could breathe the air?
And in return what do you do, ungrateful as you are?
Blow clouds of smoke, which I suspect, has carcinogens and tar.
Justice will not be denied, someday your fate we’ll view.
That’s when in earth’s recycle pot, they’ll plant the likes of you.
Then all the ground, both ripe and browned, from you since passed away,
They’ll sell pot mix penny per sack, your natural N and K.
-Doug Garrett