The Loophole Of Cynicism

Cynicism looks like the bubbles of oil, But the more they are the soup of tragedy fails to boil, Trying to boil, a globster comes to the surface, A bite puts a crack on wisdom looking like the narrower maze, A thought walks in that maze like a little boy with a lamp of insecurity, As more the steps of doubt he makes the flame of his lamp entangles him in its deformity, Sooner, the flaming vines blinds him by making him believe his whispers blindly, A lifeless thought screams more than the maze the lamp took him helplessly, If joy spreads or reigns around due to someone, Can't we accept that harmony had won ? For no one gossips nor murmurs a conspiracy, So, no tear will be left to float in the flood of cries heartlessly.