Illusion Like a weed

When I'm happy it seems I have less to write for some reason. Rabbits out of hats, ribbons out of sleeves, coins out of ears; Illusionist. I'm stubborn. I still refuse to stop believing the so-called impossible. When I think about it carefully, I've only heard what the rules of the world are from other people's mouths, and they've heard it from newspapers, and other people too. Why should I have to take anyone's word for anything? How can they say something is impossible, just because someone else says so, or because we all generally accept it to be true? That doesn't necessarily mean it's true for me. So I'll continue being stubborn. Like a weed.