by Rachel Hoyt
image by Salvatore Vuono via freedigitalphotos.net
At birth he hated all things square
And cried when points approached,
Once old he forgot that he cared
And many points encroached.
While young he grew to mistrust suits
And uniforms, (They're shackles!)
Once old his one friend was named Boots -
The mail man known to cackle.
In high school he fell in love fast
With prom queen, Jessi May,
Once old he smiled when she walked past,
Forgetting past dismay.
He spent his life trusting no one,
A cynic to the core,
Once old he forgot he'd missed fun
And couldn't define "bore".
Copyright © 2014 Rachel Hoyt. All rights reserved.
A new study says that cynics might be hurting their brain -
They're more inclined to develop dementia, a sanity sprain.