Familiar tale as round and round goes the illusory carousel.

The faithless dogs snarl and snap with jagged tooth at the Master’s hand.

I am brooding inside, churning a hatred for this borrowed paperback life,

this wide path leading to the shattered uprising.

Then come the cold nights where you don’t have any answers,

and fall with weary spirit upon the tiles, full of self.

Here a faithless prince seeks a queen who is not yet born,

and finds only ghost and shadow of what once was vibrant life.