Storm in a Teacup

Have you heard of the phrase, so often said?
A storm in a teacup—spinning in your head.

A tempest confined, yet raging inside,
Twisting, shouting, no place to hide.

It starts so small, just a ripple, a wave,
A thought, a worry, a mind to save.


And though a teacup is easy to drain,
What if the storm just fills it again?

Pour and pour—too much to contain,
The weight of the world, the whisper of pain.

And when it spills, shatters on the floor,
You scramble to gather what was yours before.

But hear me now—you’re not alone,
The tempest will pass, the winds have flown.


Discard the storm, let the echoes cease,
Put the cup down, breathe in peace.

Then, when you wake, let fresh tea flow,
Sip it slow, let calmness grow.


And when it’s empty, store it away—
The storm is gone, a brand-new day