Dark heart of a cynic

It is not the soul of the believer
That shines so brightly
But the heart of a cynic
Plunged in the world of chaos and disorder
It is dark and withering,
Striped of all light,
Forced to look at the world
With eyes of real.
But in that dark, a shimmer of light remains.
Unlike the one that believes,
The cynic relies on the hope given,
Not on the hope wanted.

In the darkness of the world
The innocence of a man is not lost,
But turned and twisted,
To horror and despair presented.
But he who sees the planes of earth
For what they are,
Knows,
The future is what you make it to be.

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