The intricate crest at the entrance fills me with dismay;
Dazzling lights that used to sway the child within me,
Now bring an ache that longs for serenity—
Every display brings a moment of clarity,
Of the blazing fire that tarnished every piece of me.
The family tree grows larger in my backyard—
Poisoned roots penetrate to seek refuge in my soul—
The circle of tragedy continues within me,
As the harbingers of turmoil relays their habitual faults,
To strike the rusted iron inside me.
I fear the endless tune of the carousel,
Harmonizing with screeches of the children and their parents;
The question I always ask myself when I get motion-sickness,
Is should I pass the baton of my ancestral fugues,
Or should I get off this endless merry-go-round.
The roller coaster ride continues to spin me in all directions—
Twisting and turning me in every way possible;
Only when the gears shut off will I finally get the relief I truly seek;
Besides, I'd rather watch them scream from the sidelines,
Than to ride the endless death trap along with them.
But learned values clamp me in my station—
Blood runs thicker than the oil in my machine.
This is a ride I can never get off.
I'm not sure if I have the stomach get through this,
If only I could have the patience to survive this.
I've learned a lot in this bright wonder world,
To each their own, a ride either big or small;
Ups and downs and highs and lows.
I could only take in me every experience I witnessed,
And convince my children to ride each one with caution.
