I spy the gates up ahead in the distance
Metallic sentinels guarding over a looming wasteland of
Rusted heaping metal, pretty pastels fading from years
Drenched in an endless salt spray that rolls
Off the ocean in droves
My heart thumps as I pass through rows
And rows of abandoned fantasies
The Tilt-A-Whirl, the Ghost Train, the Cyclone
All dead, all vanishing into nothingness, memory
The scent of cotton candy and popcorn waft in the air
With the same feeling of a phantom limb
Childhood has ways of warping our perceptions
Doesn't it?
I remember this carnival from my childhood
When the lights flashed bright
And all the clowns smiled
As I grew older, I saw past the facade, witnessed the
Paint peel back like rotten banana skins
The clowns wore tears and happiness at last
Was forgotten
So now here I sit
In the ruins of my youth
That pretty carnival of dreams
And wait for the rain to wash away
My past

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