I watch the colorful animals
trot along my vivid imagination.
the red and white stripes,
and gold lined decorations.
around, around, around once more,
but in fact it never stops.

my bones get weaker
but my heart is eager.
somehow, the carousel
keeps spinning,
through my dull life.
the red has darkened,
the white, not-so-white anymore,
the gold just ever so slightly tarnished.

my bones tired,
my heart has lost its fire.
the carousel slightly turning.
the red is now hardly visible.
the white is stained black.
and it was if gold was never there.

I found out this “carousel”
is not a “carousel”
but a clock,
counting my seconds,
while continuing to spin,
until now—
it has stopped.