Cynicism is a sneaky,
creeping thing
that slowly eats away
at hope —
It seemed to me
the "smarter", more
"realistic" framework
for walking through
life in a broken world
until I woke up
and realized
it's also an excuse
to keep my distance,
to erect higher walls
around my heart
until I don't feel
much of
anything
at all.
I may be
protected from
disappointment,
but what if I
also miss the
miracles?
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