Cynicism

Gosh, look, you look sick - are you contagious?
Yes, I’m sick of life. And be careful, it just might.
You’re better off keeping your distance,
Before my bitterness spreads like a virus.
I’ll infect your optimism,
Poison your hope with a dose of real.

You think you’ve got problems?
Well, let me give you a taste of mine,
I’ve got a buffet of chaos and bad timing,
And honey, you don’t need a reservation.
Life’s serving up disappointment,
And I’ve already had my fill.

Go ahead, laugh, it’s a survival tactic,
Like putting on a smile before the panic.
I’m fine, I swear-just fine.
Fine like a storm that hasn’t hit yet,
But you can see the clouds forming.
Fine like a cup of coffee that’s gone cold,
But you keep sipping, just to pretend you’re in control.

But hey, don’t worry,
I’m not contagious in the way you think.
You won’t catch my cynicism,
Unless you let your guard down,
And I know, you think you’re immune-
But trust me, nobody is.

So yeah, I’m sick of life,
And it’s funny, right?
Because I’m still here-still breathing,
Still pretending I know what I’m doing.
But don’t worry, I won’t infect you.
Not unless you ask me to,
Not unless you want a taste of the truth
That no one’s ever really ready for.

So keep your distance-
Or don’t.
Either way, life’s a disease,
And we’re all just waiting for the cure.
But you know what?
I’m fine without it.