misunderstood

Green is your fruit,

from which you will flourish.

Blossom and bloom,

ready to consume.

My lungs are your gate,

my only true mate.

A matrix of freedom,

in which you provide

an enhancement of living

they are trying to hide.

Gone are times when freedom was real;

human control should not be the deal.

Bad for my health?

Evidence is nil,

misguided people

swallow this pill.

My third eye will open,

I will begin to see,

taste and touch the sweetness of tea.

Sounds and nature, sweet harmonic tones;

angels, trumpets and devil's trombones.

My vision is clear, gone is the mist.

Why does this plant really exist?