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Becoming Liquid
My life is the tea bag
From which herbs spill out
Into the hot liquid
That they drink.
My insides are delicious
With milk
And honey.
Sometimes it's hard
Floating in this cloudy
Chamomile
That is me.
Sometimes it's disturbing
Getting filled with clear
And spewing out brown.
Because they drink it
And love it
And my insides are left
Soggy and sticky
Used and unnecessary
The cause for wives
To yell at their husbands
About the stains
The brown, dried stains
On her table.
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