You accuse me of
being an optimist –
as if that is
some horrible thing –
Conditioned me
to believe that
life is nothing
but excruciating –
And for a long time,
I believed you.
Bought into the
idea that the world
is a glass half empty,
and life is a baseball bat
that smashes the glass
to bits –
It took me so long
to realize that
fathers do not
always know best,
and that I am not
beholden to the
way you look
at the world –
You are bills,
taxes,
& flat tires –
Appalled at my
audacity to be
daydreams,
sunlight,
& possibility –
So do as you will –
continue to ignore
all of the wonders
that surround you –
Insist on seeing only shadows
While I choose to dwell in the light –
Keep trying to
block out the sun,
and I will still
dare to
bloom.