Cup Of Tea Poem by Melpomene's Tears

Bloodied fingers, numb to the bone
Plucking tender greens, stained red
Backs bent with weight of leaves and sorrow
Eyes unseeing, tears of blood blinding.

Rolling hills of green, crisp cold air skims the skin,
But they barely breathe, despair pumping in weakening veins
The Masters roar, heart and eyes dead to suffering
They pick leaves, tears falling, hearts trembling; hoping for death.

Disease permeates the gloomy chilly sky
Deadly coughs suffocate choking souls
Man, woman, child buried in sloping knolls
Cold of mountain, cold of death; meshing to one.

Tea seeped in tears and blood
Broken dreams and hopes crushed in between
Begging for bits of jaggery and rice
Fueling the hopeless harvest in the early morn.

Hearts filled with tombs, buried hopes
Bound by the earth, trapped by Masters
Pain saturated soul, numb with ache
Picking tea leaves in the depths of Hell.