Sour Sometimes i think life's grown sour. That tongue-curling, lip snarling, eye twitching kind of sour. Like the warhead candies from elementary school. Do you remember? The ones with the unbearably sour outsides but heartmeltingly sweet insides. The ones our dads would hand us after school in a slick leather glove hand drenched in rich cologne. The grown up smell. The problem with life, i think, is that someone forgot to give it a sweet inside. The bounty for trudging past the vicious sour layers. Sometimes i think life's grown sour. Or maybe it's just the candy. C.J. Opperthauser If you've any comments to make about this poem, C.J. Opperthauser would be pleased to hear them.