Feeding the Pessimist

Watch him eat, like he will never be fed again.
The finest cuts leave his appetite still unsated.
Feed me more and feed me now, if you really can,
With what is before him unappreciated.

Why tolerate this thankless personality,
Even if it lives buried deeply within myself?
Wake him up and cast him out to face reality
And see good is still there on a half-empty shelf.

Does the pessimist sitting at my mental table
Bring a balance against easy complacency?
Is this lack of faith of what the world is capable
A rallying challenge of some utility?

The optimist sees too much of what is not there
And may stop chasing dreams while remains more to go.
As bad the premature victory to declare
As to abandon the pursuit in hopeless woe.