My heart, they say, is made of steel,
It used to have a certain luster.
I have lost the sheer inclination to feel
Mirth or depondence. I beg to differ,
With what you may term as ‘cynical’,
But cynical is just not me.
It is not a prophylactic dismissal,
Though it may surely seem to be.
I am simple indifferent to emotion, to people,
To opinions that they have of me.
Though sometimes, my ego trips, and I topple
And my indifference breaks free….
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