Tea Corrupts Me

My heart shatters a bit every time I reach this part of my tea.

It's like a cup of me was killed; brutally murdered by society;

leaving behind a shrivelled up carcass within a mesh bag,

His name was Mr. Grey, but Earl was on his tag.

The Happy Birthday Mug of this morning turned Sadist in the blink of an eye

Distant remnants of a heavenly memory gained the aftertaste of a bitterer lie

That final sip no longer exists

And the innocent light steeped into my soul starts to resist.