I feel so sorry for the cynic.
His cup is always half empty.
If people are nice to him he suspects ulterior motives.
When they are not nice, he feels persecuted.
Rainbows, sunsets, spring flowers,
Kindness, gratitude, compassion.
He lets them all slide past
Without appreciating their beauty.
Cynicism does not let him enjoy his life
And sinks him into a morass of despair.
Eventually he develops anxiety and depression
Becoming dependent on medicines and therapy.
If only someone could tell him that laughter is the best medicine
And finding joy in little things is the best therapy.
Written for these word prompts:
I wrote this for these word prompt ages ago.