Toe the line?

Resisted the urge, there is no thorn in this rose,
Stared down the fiery ball in the sky, it isn’t the only truth
Derided the scorn, for belief is supreme I suppose
Posited against the obvious, logic may not always be sooth

Jaded and flogged, it held its form
Evidence never marred or held sway
Atrophied and worn, never evoked the norm
All cynicism and worldliness kept at bay

Yet, its raining acid once again,
Seeping into old scars, burning some anew
Carcasses of thought strewn around in pain
Bleached bones of trust are all that’s left in lieu