Familiarity

I've become contemptuous.
Repeated patterns,
Viewed through a lens coloured by cynicism.
I am by nature optimistic.
But....
Contempt born of familiarity,
Is a hard mould to break,
Perhaps impossible,
Or at least not worth the effort.
Better perhaps to move on,
Before the fruit becomes too bitter and unpalatable,
And you forget that it ever tasted sweet.