Poetry journal

Merry go round

Spinning merry go round, wind blowing our hair around.

We say our friendship will last until death,

But looking around I don’t see many people anymore.

They all really just became question marks in life, strangers.

I reach out to you and you don’t answer.

What happened to friends forever?

This is how every story ends, just mine.

Strings pulling you off the seat next to me.

I begin to worry if friendships will ever last a day.

Only me in this story, everyone is gone again.

Alone on the Merry go round.