Poetry

due date

Printed bottom of cans,
Cartons, packets of foil
Is when it’s best before,
When it will spoil.

This date of impending doom
Reminds everyone in the room

Of when the fizz goes flat
The chips go stale
The milk goes sour,
When it’s time to bail,
To chuck the whole dour

Mess right into the sink –
Instead you take another drink
From a chalice of malice, tetrapacked,
Can’t come off the juice,
Because you’re jacked.

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