Wearied by the vagaries of it all,
In constant wait of the impending doom
Lurking behind each culmination,
Like sadness on reaching the last page of a novel.
It waxes and wanes,
Never too sure to name it Love,
Never too strong to name it Hate.
With a tamed down curiosity
I proceed wearing my own flag of Humanity
Along with a sharpened brand of cynicism.
So, if you find me losing to make you win,
Don’t spare a moment in blithe consolation,
Know that I’m not here to win hearts…