Tiny morsels

Flying with the winds of time

Floating on a whimsical rhyme

Broken wings from an innocent crime

Shadows treading a fragile line

A grain of sand for every wasted hour

A gaping black hole for every dead star

A narrow waist for a lovelorn glass

A bottleneck- the sum of all its parts

Empty glasses half full with sorrow

Promises vocal, but intentions hollow

Hope yearning for a brighter tomorrow

In tiny morsels — too hard to swallow