When promises crumble like pie crust,
When sweet nothings sink like dough;
When the sick, stale stench of distrust,
begins to spread and grow.

When the tastelessness of indifference,
mixes with a dash of bitter spice;
When a pinch of of pure belligerence,
blends with a sharp addictive vice.

When sour arrogance in full measure,
flourishes free on finding fault;

When rage and ranting for pure pleasure,
curdles joy in an assault.

Bottled in an ancient jar, of brittle alabaster,
Here's a potion, ready-made, a recipe for disaster.