I see infront of me a swining pendulum,
In which people sit and scream for life.
This particular one was banana shaped,
It had fluorescent flashy lights all over it,
Maybe they were there to make sure
everyone knew they were happy and alive.
Their screams must be a testament to their joy.
People who were afraid to get on the pendulum
Stood near the entrance cheering their families as they ate crunchy yellow popcorn.
Kids who were too short or too young were crying,
They wanted to have fun too,
They wanted to scream too.
There were old people, young people, ladies and men.
There were sick people, lazy people and dead people in there.
When the pendulum started rocking,
Everyone started screaming like they saw their grandmother’s ghost,
As if the pendulum would swing and break,
Flying them over to god’s abode.
They were playing loud boliwood songs,
In which the hero trashes the villains and his lady gets lost.

I sit beside the trees outside the circus
I etch words as they swim to my soul.
I ponder how?
How their hearts must be weary,
Their limbs maybe numb.
A swinging banana throws them from side to side to make them feel alive.
O how people run.
O how people run.