Joy Poem by Cornelius Grimm

I take your light and smother it, Not by choice but through thy own temperament.
A testament of character, one painted from a palette that may be mistaken as lacking the capacity for joy and predisposed to draining the life from those who favor the glass half full over its half empty counterpart.

But when the glass has been cracked, its edges chipped away and broken through the persistent trials and tribulations of life, cutting at my lips with every bloody sip.
one must then question whether or not this hamartia can be blamed on the vessel who has taken the flame and quenched it or placed upon those who would be left breathless when their fire failed to survive such harsh conditions.

For when the cold winds blow out the very embers that were protected by nothing more than a mindset,
the oxygen sucked from their very soul to the point that they can no longer bare to be in the suffocating presence of the thief.
Only then can one then question.

Is it I? Or am I wrong to question my own nature.
Only to be left wondering if the glass has finally shattered, destined to be discarded in a black box devoid of the light I had so often stolen