Circus Life

Circus Life Inside, it smells like death and pain. And two beasts guard the heart of my brain. Puzzles and pieces scatter from the hilt. My spine breaks under this mountain of guilt. Colors and feelings are nothing compared to believing The awful stench inside my head. Bleeding with ink and clouded with dread. Beast number one rears its ugly head and says my dear, what do you most dread? Well, that's metaphorical and certainly quite volatile. But let me sit and think. I suppose, she replies, that what causes that stink is my brain one day running out of ink. Beast number one guards feelings and reelings Beast number one roars Day after day, guards cycles and riffles. But beast number one, to me he just says 'These thoughts, they are just all in your head.' Beast number two, well, she is rather blue. About all this pain, you see, she has it too, and above all she is most difficult to tame. But each day from her head Reels the stuff that she dreads, And lands in my heart, each day, it can't start. But each day, it's the same. But past all the beasts And tricks and applause; Sneak under this tent, and do mind the claws. All mirrors obstruct her from the crowd. So she sees all her flaws and her thoughts are so loud. Too loud for the number one circus attraction. Step up, step two, gents, she loves the attention. Watch her preen and watch her prance. My dears, lead her in this next dance. Her mind is far gone so she is your pawn to do with whatever you please. But inside, she roars And she fights and she pleads For her mind to stop spinning so loud at the beginning And she tries too hard to fly Away from this mess, away from distress. The funeral beds are laced with her dread and she wonders just when she might die. So she creeps from the tent and she blinks in the sun. And she sees people round her preying off her for fun. But free, she can never be. For her mind is where she seems to be Till her very last dying breath. Only she will be the master of her own death.