People stop to ask “what happened?-
You used to be so positive.”
I can only conclude my sarcasm,
Had all been lost on them.

I no longer know what to believe.
Yet never presume to believe what I say.
Why should it not be myself I deceive?
Cynicism, the voice that clouds my way.

Long ago, I was a dreamy-eyed idealist.
Now ideals strike deep fear in my heart.
No test-lab to confirm I’m a realist.
Blank slate brings abrupt end, not a fresh start.

I’d hardly count myself more worldly.
Yet I believe things I didn’t before.
Though I never feel any more certainty,
That I truly know the full score.

I have abandoned belief in selflessness.
A worthy pursuit, but does not exist.
Desperate faith in eternal return is proof of this.
Surely, every act is motivated by self-interest.

I realize, created equal we all may be.
Sadly then, our measure lies in what we take.
I am made lesser then, if you pay me.
A labour commodity, reduced to what I make.

With every day that comes to pass,
I always find that I believe in less.
Appalled further by the mounting mass,
Of disappointing truths I must accept.

By Andrew H.