Falling bottle

Whistling while it drops,

A song it sings as it cascades.

A song that I hear often, from the brokenhearted.

A hollow heart deep in a pit full of filth.

Its world stoops and adrenaline is spent.

As it descends into the open arms of spite.

But all its pain ceases, as it lays a thousand pieces upon a rock.

Author of the day

A Poem by Tonny Wandella