The Circus


carousel

We live in a circus,
We’re the audiences,
And the ringmasters,
As far as this show goes.

Each day brings a new gig,
We learn to laugh and cry,
With the changes in the acts,
To march on we try.

We pull the strings,
Of our lover’s hearts,
Turn them into puppets,
Kill the show before it starts.

The music of the carousel,
Reminds us to watch our backs,
Its eerie and mechanical tinkling,
Shows us our guilt in stacks.

This is a circus, no doubt,
Comes alive after we’ve closed our eyes,
Its a kaleidoscope of our memories,
A testament to how time flies.

The colors change,
The acts evolve,
We turn around to see,
Our goodness  dissolve.

Until the arrival of the final special,
The grand curtain raiser of the show,
We look on in awe at the magic,
In the recesses, trumpets blow.

In the end of this spectacular,
Amidst  the fanfare and the fire,
We learn the art of leading this show,
Learn to soldier on till we tire.

When we perish and die,
We revisit our moments of glory,
The limelight now looks fake,
Life is a circus surely.

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