I'm not feeling optimistic about love.
I was told that cycles are good.
That everything round brings with it
A chance to redeem, rebuild.
But nobody mentioned the vertigo;
The nausea, the crying, the sickly ego
That also come back with it.
Whirrrrll goes the rusty, old wheel
Rustiest at the end I'm dangling from
I never knew it was made of iron
So got on board thinking it was of wood
And that it would do me a lot of good
To go spinning on it.
Since then it's taken dramatic turns
To say the least. It's been a scary...