He watches them with a cynic stare
Set apart from all other men.
A guardian of those without a care
Keeper of all his unfortunate kin.

He despises them, truly
Airheaded and unruly.
The kind of man who raze his fields,
Warring, tenacious, refusing to yield.

Yet all the same, he keeps an eye
To 'help and guide', he claims.
To the other watchers, strange enough
He only aims to maim.

As the decades pass, and his hairs turn white,
The cynic fades to gray.
His thoughts are shunned and pushed back,
As his vision flickers, and turns to black.

And so, the man who judged them,
Finds himself in the Judge's hall.
He strayed from Heaven, retreated from Hell
So where he'll end up, I cannot tell.


A Poem I decided to write about cynical people. Not to hate on them, since I'm very cynical, but just some of my observations.