The Ferris Wheel and Being Bipolar
Riding so long, I feel nauseous
They won’t stop the Ferris wheel
My throat is dry and cracked from screaming
Stop!, Please Stop!
Up, up - ground shifting at dizzying heights
Down, down - crashing, stomach flopping
White knuckles from holding the grimy bar
Smell of metal and cooking meat all around
Creaking and moaning of hot gears and
Weight under tension
Unnerving canting and swaying of
A rickety car with black grease oozing from
Over-worked pivot points and hinges
Just another day at the carnival….
And being Bipolar.
Copyright © Kelly McDonald | Year Posted 2006