Little Things in Life

Bittersweet Wine

You're crying on your knees, 

but no one can hear you. 

Your tears are like the seas, 

 but they can't see what's true. 

You're bones are cracking, 

and you're wounds splitting. 

You're lungs attacking 

the breath that's unremitting. 

You're a lone storm, 

but the casualties are one. 

A broken firestorm 

that burns brighter than the sun. 

You've got nowhere to empty

your bittersweet wine, 

which still holds plenty, 

for a later dine. 

No hero can pull you out, 

no one can hear your cry. 

The savior you give a shout, 

but it's alone that you dry. 

For your bittersweet wine, 

is cold on the table, 

nothing of it benign, 

as you drown and turn unstable.