The Pessimist's Breakfast.
The toast will burn
it always does, a sign of fate
written on the crusted black
with butter. It looks like rain.
The yolk will break,
good health gives way to pain,
we all will die, the weight we lose
will be less than we gain.
So thought the pessimist at breakfast,
then smiled.
Predicting the inevitable turning,
knowing what his fear allowed;
that if every cloud has a silver lining
then all those silver linings have a cloud.