Actually thought of this title some time ago, and I finally got down to writing it.
The Tea-stained Mug
These marks on me, stained by the burning liquid you love so much,
The odour, a mix of pungent smells, which you are so addicted to,
Only exists to suffocate me.
These marks on me, do they show my effort?
Was I good enough for you?
Are they the stains of your acknowledgement?
I try my best to fit your ideals,
Ignoring the different stenches that surround me day by day,
Ignoring the residues that you left on me because
I am not worth it,
No matter how much I try to deny,
I can’t run away from you.
Have you ever thought that one day,
I might crack?
Under the heat and pressure of your boiling demands,
I never fail to yield.
I wasn’t the best you could ask for,
But I knew deep down,
I was there,
Because no one else was.
These stains have piled up,
Am I finally of worth to you?
Have I finally made my mark?
But then I realise,
it was all my wishful thinking.
Soon I realised
I was just a stepping stone,
Soon I realised,
The reasons for these stains.
Do you know that what is done,
Cannot be undone?
Do you know that these stains that scar,
will be here even after I’m forgotten?
Do you know
the extent of the damage you inflicted on me?
Do you know that because of your actions,
I am ugly, tainted, unwanted?
Do you know that if you just tried,
if you just bothered to give me a chance,
would not need to exist?