Here I am again,
watching the scenery loop
on the carousel's third lap. 

I'd rather not have paid the fair
but to have observed the hellish chaos 
from outside this whirlwind of horses. 

The eye of the storm doesn't exist here
when the stationary cavalry doesn't stop,
but I chose to enlist in your war. 

My last tour ended with a bang,
body intact, but inside was torn,
and I said I'd "never fight the good fight again."

But here I am
caught in the searing winds,
scars refreshed, sobering and familiar. 

How did I let this happen?
The Siren's song was so alluring,
with promises strewn on shores' crags. 

Oh Helen, you made me face a thousand ships,
but when my eyes returned 
you were merely a new mare on the merry-go-round.

I knew what to expect 
when I chose to turn on the fleets,
but my childish dreams convinced me you were different. 

Advisors had warned,
and instinct agreed,
but my trust has become my enemy. 

So here I am again,
surrounded, not yet able to retreat,
but the battle is almost over. 

This time I swear I'll never fight again.
You don't recognize peace until it returns,
and isolationism is the key to keeping it. 

I promise I won't,
but first I must wait
for the looped music to cease.