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.