I climbed up where secrets are kept,
beside the rattling pills in rows.
Tinfoil glinted like forbidden treasure,
each square a promise of sweetness untold.
I pinched a row, sealed it tight,
left the rest as if untouched history.
Bitter taste but I kept chewing,
expecting sugar, finding something off.
The hours passed like ticking bombs,
then my stomach churned its dark tale.
The toilet became my sincerest confidant,
a throne of regret, porcelain and cold.
Stealing always sets its own sharp trap,
and Grandpa\'s stash, no exception to rule.
Ex-lax carved lessons into my youthful gut,
truth wrapped tight in glimmering deceitful foil.