An Ode to a Cynic!

No humour comes easy to a heart plagued with grief

For a heart made of remorse rarely understands relief

There’s only but one truth that stands true to his belief

Its shadow called ‘doubt’ clouds all that it perceives

For a cynical heart hasn’t really ever had a true reason

And shall also never even ask for one

For it has learnt many other ways to grieve

A heart that is at a duel with its insufficient self

Has many inventive cures to revive its disease.

One can only try and knock to see if there’s someone indoors

But one will always be disappointed to find it locked and will retrieve

For a cynical heart is never just yet ready to meet