Perfect 10

Hot water she pours into a zodiac mug Dips in the bag, twirls round the string She makes a comparison with her life Insignificant and disposable, nothing Used just once before being discarded The flavour is squeezed out and spent Having been randomly chosen at last To compete in an all-time losers event Dip, lift, twirl, squeeze, throw it in the bin A perfect score of 10, as the bag drops in She smiles at her ludicrous fantasies The smile fades out to a sigh of despair The sigh of the unloved and the lonely The sigh of a soul that’s been laid bare She nearly made it but ever since then She’s a twilight shadow, left for dead After becoming a conquest in the line Of those lured to his family-sized bed Dip, lift, twirl, squeeze, under the duvet A perfect score of 10, as he scores another lay She heard he is now wedded in bliss But she lives alone, as no one desired A sad and tepid package of wet leaves Stamped with a sell-by date expired Squeezed, as a last blob of toothpaste And drained like an old tin bath tub She holds up the string and she says ‘Hello old tea bag, welcome to the club’ Dip, lift, twirl, squeeze, into the garbage truck A perfect score of 10, for being out of luck