Grandpa's Lesson

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.