The Cynic's Pastoral

I've heard I'm way too cynical to be 18 years of age I've heard them wonder how I came To find this kind of rage In the years I've barley spent- Barely escaped From preschool, primary colors, and prepubescent finger paints -Well- I'de beg you to be mindful in the way you calibrate The worth of an individual To be inadequate You see..... I've spent this years wondering if knowledge is fruitless Wearing a crown that proud -ly reads conquistedor of the useless Quietly In a society that puts not value on muteness And even when I speak loud The words do not run fluid- I am naive because I am human Not because I am young Revolution tastes like poison, but it is yet to burn my tongue And I know a single sip of it Will never be enough So I keep preaching to this choir, 'till they swear they've had enough Just to prove the youngest cynic is still bones and blood and guts.