a glass sits on the subspace of my mind it’s half empty
i ask myself
why is it half empty, why not half full
why is is so hard to see the water sloshing about in the glass
clear cool refreshing
why do i only see the empty space where water should be
a Void to avoid talking about a part of myself that i keep refusing to share a part that i seem to allow to grow, yet i wish it would leave me the hell alone
do I actually enjoy this melancholy
do I like these compressed and silent tears rolling down my cheeks in the darkness
do i make things up to be sad about
a question
is my glass even half empty at all
or do i have a glass full to the brim while i persist in pursuing these gray thoughts