Fine China Warfare.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki,
my God what have I done?
My drink stained with a mushroom cloud
of skinny milk and none!
It seemed so good from here on high,
to whiten up my tea,
but now the cloud of milk sinks in
and fear seeps in to me.

Were there little tea leaf men
in dregs, tending to wives?
And what of all the tea leaf kids,
fleeing for their tea leaf lives?
I didn’t even ponder
their botanic dreams and goals
fixated on that Grail like drink,
I boiled their ceylon souls!

Oh Jasmine, Chamomile and Green;
I repent, I mourn, I wail!
You did not deserve my greed
cutting short your tea-leaf tale.
This monstrous deed I have performed
I fear the consequence
will be a tea cup curse on me,
a scalding plague of evidence.

I place solace in one final hope
from this grim point in,
that you carried out your call in life
sheathed by your tea bag skin,
but because I cannot bear to look…
I hide you in the bin.

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