The Cynic Knight

Sunshine outside my window
Reminds me of good times ahead
The wounds that need new dressing
Remind me of battle instead.

I think of death and heartbreak,
Ignoring life and love.
I think of the dark, cold raven,
Not of the pure, soft dove.

I imagine my new, more perfect life
And finally smile, the first in years.
To think of all the pain I've witnessed
Leaves me with cold, cruel tears.

Even the purest beacon of light
Creates a shadow, in my mind;
For even the most lovely thing
In the mind of a cynic is cruel, not kind.