I can write all I want,
like a mad man, an optimist,
a romantic to say the least
Wishing my words come true some day,
Wishing, when I’m lost,
they show me the way
While somewhere, deep inside, within my mind,
the cynic survives the test of time,
It lurks beneath my skin slithering like a snake
making its way into my heart when,
through the night, I lay wide awake
Every line I write feels so hollow to the eye
Every syllable I speak sounds like a lie
What tales of love will I tell you dear friend
When I have killed the romantic inside?
Is there any hope for me,my friend,
A silver-lining I can pray for?
Or will I live this way for the rest of my time,
A Cynic, with my head and heart,
Eternally at war?