Oh stumbling sparrow perched upon splintered wood and glass,
As if looking through transient glass, and trying to make sense of the past.
Oh Broken Bird, I have heard your quiet chirps echo in the summer sun,
But the Autumnal Equinox has already begun, and your mourning songs already sung,
I see your broken beak trying to move, trying to speak, trying to grieve,
The summer has come and passed faster than the changing of the leaves,
your body shakes from relapse to relapse, a pattern unfolding over time,
As the soul of the soul rises upward towards the divine.
Even Jesus turned water into wine,
A legalistic loophole one can carry.
Bottle after bottle abused all at once to burry.
Each broken bird sat suffering upon my chamber door,
quoth the Raven nevermore.
The bird buckles his legs to fall flat without embrace,
I shout, give yourself a reason, this doesn’t have to be your fate.
Oh Broken Bird sat outstretched stuck in transient glass,
I have sat where you have sat, your pain won’t last,
Sing out a new song to escape the past.