A poem about being cynical.

When did my heart become so jaded?

Why are the colors and lights so faded?

I'm beginning to wish that I hadn't traded

My soul for a wish.


Why does my mind run unaided?

And why does the world feel so shaded?

I'm beginning to think he spoke the truth who stated

Ignorance is bliss.


But then what is wisdom for?

What is knowledge for

If it brings with it sorrow?


Alas, it is for hope.

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