life was a carnival,
spinning round and round.
a disproportional
compound
clowns fooled you,
rides sickened the weak.
who knew what you were walking into,
with you and your critique.
only if we spun fast enough
we would see the wrongs,
the things f*cked up
as trickable game pawns.
because the cause of falling
was much worse
than we thought,
thinking we were at fault.
our hearts were pumping,
each beat of love.
only to be crushed
into dust.
yet, do not give up.
life was a personal carnival,
flowing energy into our veins,
an activity impermeable.
and you shouldn't cave into claims.
YOU ARE READING
To The World
شِعر"the inferno of words would be my demise if i did not express them." #501 in poetry #640 in poetry #689 in poetry #692 in poetry
