The Little Things: Mistaken Dreams I

Some dreams are broken,

      Hovering amidst dampened clouds, Having left hope's impressions on heaven's breathe stained memorial of humanity's glass complexion of ill tempered relief, A botanist concoction of an unyielding tempest held in a beaker; Labelled heart, All too unhappy to awake revive that which is willingly cursed.

In lieu of our participation in,
Spending the good on the bad...!