The Cynic

Trust not, know not, Love not, show not, In the midst of such vague expressions, lies the life, of the pessimistic cynic, or rather the temperament born from his solitude, a solitude which remains fortified, Hope not, see not, Free not, be not, are the unwritten rules of his constant confinement, Faithless and motionless due to comfortable surroundings, He sees the world through logical, eyes from the darkest spectrum, As light is merely the wrapping paper over the ugliest truth, Illuminated paint covering walls that shall forever remain the same Yet the appeal is incredibly seductive, The brighter allure of hope keeps light desirable Whereas his view has no seduction, merely the fact of being fact, Thus he embraces not corruption, nor does he take pride in eradicating any sheltered scent of optimism, For he too would enjoy a moment of essential ignorant indulgence, if only to know the touch of acceding, Yet he chooses not to, despite his opinions condemned to being despised, He sleeps in his only comforting reward, the serene knowledge that he helps truth be seen, known, and heard...