The Cup

It is filling up again 
With a Niagara Falls of life's demands 
Pouring in unhindered 
And it is being carried everywhere 
Penetrating the ribcage with pain 
Exhaustion inhabiting every space 
Causing the back to stoop 
From the tension 
Of attempting transportation 
Without spilling a drop 
Although its bearer knows that’s impossible 
But while they have been taught 
Lessons about boundaries the hard way 
Nothing seems to have stuck 
About how the cup has its limits 
And the bearer had better put 
Some in place too if they are 
Not to crash again smash again 
Splintering into a thousand pieces 
Requiring another restoration project 
To put the self-shards back together 
Costing many thousands in 
Pounds and hours and tears 
But fools are known as such for a reason 
And lessons are poorly heeded 
And the repairs are not of 
Strengthening and beautifying gold 
And the newly established borders 
Are constructed entirely porous 
And the cup is held out once again 
To be filled with all manner of things 
And is lugged around with all it contains 
Though tipping out some of what it holds 
Or simply putting it down for a while might help 
But helping oneself is against The Law 
So soon enough cracks appear 
And the cycle repeats repeats repeats 
Spinning around in the same old circle 
Like the swiftly swirling centre of 
A vigorously stirred cup of tea