I feel like a clown
makeup running down
my face, from the rain,
the pain of feeling clouds
blocking my sunshine dreams

Optimism, a fun game
for children and the bored.
I keep my goals tame,
while I shake in the cold.

Afternoon… night.
My goal only for life.
A future of delight,
good job and good wife

See, “I am no pessimist”,
that, while brushing a future away.
Forever claiming I’m a realist—
we know all good things never stay

Don’t get hopes high,  
and there you will never feel surprise

I thought it was the weather
but in the sun, I feel the same
I thought it was my hormones
But the menstrual cycle is only part of my pain
I thought it was my location
But when I move, it follows
and when I try to change
I always revert back to my ways
Maybe it's just me
And I will never change
Tripping over my own feet
Until I can't get up again

I know what you’re all about because you’ve told me.

You’re against using medicine and chemicals.
Unless I put them in my body and they become the permission slip for you to *** inside me.
Somehow this feminism pill that is supposed to liberate me is really liberating your ****.

You’re against plastic surgery.
Until I need it to fix this unbroken vessel which you can’t help but make comments about while we stand naked and on exhibit in the shower.

You’re against hurting women.
Unless it involves “hog-tying me and carrying me around like a brief case.”
Then it’s just **** and what you’re into.
I guess I should work on finding the pleasure in that.

You’re against me using a ******* chef’s knife to cut pizza rather than a pizza cutter.
Until it becomes an opportunity to tell me I’m doing it wrong.
I’m going to dull the knife you are so cunningly waiting to shove in my back.

You’re against giving in to unhappiness.
Unless it’s an excuse for you to ignore me.
I forgot I already reached my frown quota and you were given the free infinity pass at birth.

You’re against eating meat.
Unless it’s human meat because you aren’t above cannibalism. How many of us have you chewed up and **** out, anyway? I am just one more unassuming girl to be preyed upon.

You’re against pessimism.
Until it’s your life, your opinion, your need to rain on everyone’s parade. You say I don’t see the silver lining in the clouds, but it’s because I’m consumed by your storm. The entire sky is overcast and I can’t, or won’t, be the rainbow every single time.

What is a rainbow anyway?
Depending upon which way you look, it vanishes into nothing. Beautiful, but transparent and fleeting. I give you pleasure for a moment and then I am forgotten.
I am a refraction.
A bending light.
Invisibility spreading it’s legs wide open to give you a smile in fabulous color.

You shout these qualities in your autobiography like I’m supposed to give you some type of award.
The reality is that being in a relationship with you means constantly teetering on the balancing beam of a double-edged sword.
The only thing you’re really against is me.

On day 1 you told me you were an *******.
And I thought you were just exaggerating.

I am told I see my glass half empty
I should see it half full when I look at it
Empty or full either way I see a glass containing ****

you're the certain type of blossom
that needs no such weeding out;
even sunrises and sunsets are enthralled
to make their way into your mouth.

while there's me who doesn't hold anchors
but keeps sinking deeper into the ground;
me who lights torches into flames
only to eventually blow them out.

i figured it takes a strong heart and soul
to look forward to rainbows during a downpour,
to see the stars through the thickest brume
and to endure life like it's just an adventure.

but i simply cannot see the world as perfectly as you
because rose-colored boy, no matter what i do,
we just can't all be like you.