There’s a carousel,
like the ones you see at a fairground,
in vibrant red and vibrant yellow,
with intricate designs carved into every curve,
with bright lights constantly beaming,
where the horses jump from floor to ceiling,
bound by the metal ropes,
that hold them to the floor.

They can only go so far.

You ride the carousel,
spinning faster and faster and faster and faster,
your knuckles white as you hold on desperately,
gripping for dear life,
but you never slow down.

You never stop.

Because the carousel never stops turning.