Perspective (a poem)

I used to be the person

to see the glass as

half-full.

But I don’t remember

what it was like to be her

anymore.

I never really became

the person to see the glass as

half-empty

either.

Instead, I just see

half a glass of water

with the potential to remain statically

half-filled,

the potential to be drained dry,

the potential for the fragile exterior

to be shattered,

the potential to be filled to the brim,

or the potentional to be abudantly

overflowing.

With the glass in my hand,

I’ll decide

what comes next.