The pot sits on the shove, the flames lick it’s bottom.
The pot blackens up and heats and stews
Arguments are not forgotten.
As the day heats, so too the pot.
Injustices are percieved.
You say hello, or so you thought,
“How’s your day?” as well
But heard was “You’re a rotter, you’re a tosser.”
The simmering reaches boiling point
Chaos erupts, the pot explodes.
Contents flying indiscriminately
Until empty once more, flat, drained.
The simmering stew, a student again.
© KJ Eastwick 2017