Carousel

 

Carousel

Like a carousel, horses impaled on a round-table, spinning

forever, my thoughts turn on me. To every mistake I've

ever made; who I have upset, stupid things

I've said, all replaying, exemplifying my

failings and faults. I think about what

was said, what happened, what should have

been said and how things would now be

different, with me as less of a monster. I

face this every night, lying on my sagging bed,

trying, but unable, to get comfortable.