The merry-go-round is turning
fast and shiny as sunlight dancing
off the mirror, gilded pony's wicked
smiles foretell the future
in perpetual circles. No one is going
to finish this race, children
cling to wooden necks
like flies enrapt
in spider's web,
unmindful
of life's defeat, its lack of purpose,
the treachery of motion...
when the go-round slows-
fiercely plead for more.
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