Glass Half Empty Poem by Michelle Asswit

We are all so melancholy
We wait for life to hand us a miracle
But miracles don't always exist
Just like the glass of wine may tip
And though the blood red liquid will pour out
It won't matter to us because we've already imbibed
On something so significant like the red wine
And now I picked the glass up
There is still a small amount left
And I think of my wine like I think of my life
Should I feel like I have less wine or more?
Should I appreciate new things like I haven't before
My glass is the same as theirs
But theirs is full
and mine's half bare