An old cynical overbearing man,
Unkempt beard, messy hair,
Sat quietly, watching everyone,
Grunting, scornful at youthful lair.
A stern frown reined his wrinkled forehead,
Remembering his own youthful foolishness,
He could never be made to forget,
How he became a cynic full with bitterness.
He had come to realize the deceit,
Of a skilful and crafty beckoning woman
He had experienced the torturous heat,
The wanton love that torment.
He admits, he concedes, he was stupid,
To let his imagination wildly ran,
On and on, he did nothing, he’s beat,
Entangled in the web delicately spun,
By a conniving, lying, multi-faceted bitch,
Who taught him the meaning of ‘woman’.
So don’t ask him, why, my good man, why,
Why he is now o’ so cynical,
Love had once left him high and dry,
He knows now to remain skeptical.
Love is said universal,
It soothes, it gives inspiration,
But when a man has become cynical,
He needs to be alone, to be abandoned,
Coz the love he’d once believed magical,
Had deserted him to complete destruction.
His youthful naivety ensured his mistake can’t be bailed,
And that is why he shall always be forever cynical.