Parade

You will not rain on my parade.
You will not hover over my experience with your misery
Like a dark cloud ready to break and wash my joy away.
You will not drain the colour from my happy place
Leaving it monotone
In the wake of your bitterness.
I owe you no explanation
Or justification
Or even an education on how you are meant to feel.
You will not change my outlook by chipping away
My bright thoughts with your dull ones.
I have my own set of tools
That are far sharper and more cutting than yo...