Like a storm in a teacup
The intense heat boils over
And dangerously combusts

Shattering the delicate china
Into sharp, uneven fragments

Broken asunder
unable to fit the pieces back
together

I tape over them
gloss over the fact that
it can never be
that same cup

Intact
and anyone who comes
near
may be drawn into the
aftermath of the still raging storm

Be careful
You might just hurt yourself
on the spiteful sharp edges

That are now the only remains
of that once exquistly moulded teacup.