Home » What am I ? » In the morning I sing on feathered wing. I soar through the air without a care. What am I?

In the morning I sing on feathered wing. I soar through the air without a care. What am I?
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I am constantly overlooked by everyone but everyone has me. What am I?
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Used to threaten, used to defeat. Sometimes it grows, sometimes it shrinks. Used to conquer, used to protect. It marks your downfall, it marks your success. The true god of war, the creator of mess. What is it?
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I can ruin your day, or darken your life. And while I’m expected, I’m never alright. I’m bad for business, and worse for your hair. Wherever I am, there’s something not there.
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I was born of mire and muck; Of velvets and of rags. I bear your secrets and share your sweat, Lying patiently in wait. I’ve never sinned, but still I’m hated- Drowned, beaten, then hanged. But the work is never done; I’ll rise again in seven days.
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