Cynics are, in normal life,
Not to be admired.
They castigate and denigrate
And cannot be inspired,
Shine intellect into the nooks
Revealing lies and scams and crooks,
Write the most despairing books,
Make us dispirited and tired.
But, anyway, humanity
Ignores most buts and ifs.
We have our normal arguments,
Our spats and snarls and tiffs.
But deep inside we can’t deride
That destinies can be defied.
We paste some feathers on our hide
And keep jumping off of cliffs.