Milk (poem)

Every office has them,
Lurking in plain sight.
Do NOT touch their milk,
Unless looking for a fight.
With the level marked
And named with felt-tip pen,
The milk mafia dictate
What you drink, and when.
Don’t think you’ll get away
With taking a drop for your tea:
They do NOT take the view “live and let live,
Whatever will be, will be.”
These semi-skimmed soldiers
Deploy all sorts of tricks.
Exhibit A”…
“breast milk”…
To prevent you getting your fix.
Should they ever catch you,
You’re surely for the chop.
A withering stare; a scowl:
“Whatever you’re doing, just stop!”
There is only one thing worse
Than those who behave in this way.
My ire’s reserved for the light-fingered lout
Who’s stolen MY milk today!



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