I am Skeptical

Because I can't help it.

I want to believe you; I honestly do.
I want to believe you’ve a cure for the ‘flu
And that just a few drops of your vivid green goo
On my tongue will convince me, at last, that it’s true.

But alas, though I risk sounding antipathetical
Claims, until tested, are just hypothetical.
Show me some proof. Until then:
I am skeptical.


I want to believe that you’re psychic; you bet!
I want to believe that you know how to get
Prior knowledge of things that have not occurred yet;
And can channel dead aunts I don’t want to forget.

But although your delivery’s truly protreptical,
And what you say sounds profound and prophetical,
It’s quite inaccurate. So:
I am skeptical.


I want to believe in your almighty guy;
I want to believe that, the day that I die;
I’ll be whisked off to heaven and live in the sky;
In a place so enchanted it makes people cry.

But astronomy’s findings, through means arithmetical;
Make those ideas and the truth antithetical,
While I’m alive, I admit:
I am skeptical.


I want to believe in all manner of stuff;
I want easy ways to make living less tough;
But a vague testimony just isn’t enough;
If it all sounds too good to be true, I call bluff.

Though my trite explanation’s somewhat catachrestical,
(Oft punctuated with thoughts parenthetical);
Nevertheless, it remains:
I am skeptical.