Roundabout…

Inspired by the TV show, West World…

See the record spinning?
Neither head nor tail,
Where’s the end or the beginning?
Round and around,
Full circle on demand,
Yet seemingly free,
Deceit!
Tis all engineered,
Placed by God,
Or something supernatural,
A force beyond our understanding,
It’s all engineered,
Designed,
Rigged,
Already chosen,
A hidden force manipulates,
What we perceive to be free Will.
Play,
Stop,
Skip,
Handle with care,
Delicately,
Avoiding wear and tear,
Scratch that,
And the sound will slack,
Skipping,
Trying to take it back.
It loops,
Circling like a hoola hoop,
Rhythm fast,
Rhythm slow,
Rhythm go,
Go,
Go,
Over and Over,
Because the master made it so.
A mirage of freedom,
In reality,
A soul trapped against its Will,
Destined only for fatality,
Things aren’t what they appear to be,
Russian roulette,
A fascade of tranquillity,
When really brutality,
A journey that you will endlessly repeat,
Yet we still forget,
The purpose as to why,
We do not know yet,
Bewitched,
Trickery,
We learn with regret,
And then we try to learn some more,
Starved with zero power,
I am mentally impaired,
But a sensitive suffragette,
Slightly aware that things are not right,
Stuck in an endless maze,
I hope for something more,
That there is some reason behind this treason,
But for now,
We lack control,
Lost in a game that we did not sign up for,
Chained to the tightest strings,
We are but puppets,
Stuck in a wretched game,
That we are forced to Play,
On this tainted roundabout,
In shades of grey.

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“… I defy you stars!”

You keep saying, “Tell me, don’t hide from me”. Whenever I try, it is to difficult. I know that the world does not revolve around me, in fact I often wonder why I am in this world at all. How is it that after bruise, after strain, after fracture, after broken, that I can still produce what we call love? How is it that after each poke, prod, push and fall, I keep getting back up? How is it that in just one day, a mere twelve hours, I can go from way up high to way down low over and over again. If you know and accept that I am sick, why do you only come when the plot gets thick? To only pop up when I am in hospital, you needn’t bother at all. To only get in touch when I post my misfortunes on social media, you needn’t bother at all. It is every single day that I battle my mental health problems. It has been every single day for so long, that I have not had the luxury of silence but been overwhelmed by the likes of claps of thunder drilling in my ears. It must be exhausting to know and love me, it most definitely is for myself. What you may consider small, is so huge in my life. Let downs. Rejection. Abandonment. I have become accustum to such things. I now only expect such things. “I am fortunes fool, I defy you stars!”