I shall put this kettle on, but I shall do no more

A poem I wrote over a year ago but still seems so relevant today...

I’m putting the kettle on,

but I shall do no more.

On earth I was not put

you to make tea for.

I’ll fill her ‘til she’s full,

I’ll even flick her switch.

But then my work is done.

I am not your tea bitch.

All the times I have slaved

with tea-bag and cup.

All the minutes spent brewing

just for a sup.

All the tea that went cold,

and tea bags that burst.

All the tea made and forgot,

and mouths left to thirst.

All the milk that went sour,

all the sugar that was spilt.

All the tea that was made

out of pity or guilt.

Oh! I have drunk from that cup,

‘tis I that’s the mug.

Now you say you want more,

I plead for mercy; you shrug:

“I made tea last time,”

you scoff gleefully.

Defeated by logic

I’m forced to agree.

So I shall put this kettle on,

but I shall do no more.

I’ll find a mug and a tea-bag,

but then it’s all yours.

By the time I’ve done this,

the kettle has boiled.

So I’ll pour in the water,

my god, you are spoiled.

Heck! Here’s milk and sugar,

sure I’ll make one for me…

Oh, will I ever do anything

but make mugs of tea?