the glass is half empty
my mind is too full
negativity is all that tempts me
with its downward pull

with broken feathers
i fall from the sky
when it's always cloudy weather
hope is sure to die

once i was lost
broken and dying
now i can be found
fearlessly flying

I'm a saint of the vapor
that's my God-given nature
I'm only here for a season
with my heart, pen, and paper