Roundabout

The rusty paint is overlooked,
The creak becomes a melody,
Hands draw fast to metal shafts,
The world stands still, expectantly -

A nod of head, a tightened grip
And now the motion starts,
The children, beaming, set their hearts
On this whirling, short-lived glee.

Round and
Round
Their focus
Gone
A colourful
Catastrophe
For gravity
Grips viciously
Frail bodies
To cold ground
And all
These souls
Can hope to save
Is comfort in this
Blind motion.

It never stops
This spinning
Round
I've shut my eyes
And prayed
But speed is felt
Propels my heart
It spins me to my grave.

I can't get off
This childish game
It spins me
On and
On
It's getting
Faster
Everday
I fear
That I
Can't

Breathe