He placed his heart on the anvil
And picked up his hammer
He hesitated less than a second
Before he brought it down.

The first hit was bitterness
For life had not gone his way.
The second hit was cynicism
For no one ever cared beyond themselves.

The third and final hit was hatred
For love had betrayed him
And in its absence, he realized
Hate never broke his heart.

He returned his heart to his chest
And a bitter, hateful cynic said:
Emotions are for the weak
As a tear fell down his face.