“Intelligence subsumed by the need to please…”
The curtains draw
the lights come on,
he takes centre stage.
With bated breath,
spectators watch,
prepared to be amazed.
For a second,
he tilts, he teeters
he looks uncertain.
But there’s wheels to spin
a show to do
no matter what the burden.
Lightly furred,
his tiny legs
push pedal to the metal.
The audience claps,
He hears them gasp,
reactions monumental.
The audience shouts:
go faster, spin backwards,
sing a song while you do it.
Turn this way,
circle that way,
there’s really nothing to it.
A break in stride
he spreads his arms,
it looks like he might fall.
So quickly he recovers,
blink and you’d miss
seeing it at all.
The cheering soars
too far away
to see brows dot with sweat.
A single drop
Upon his tunic
he makes himself forget.
Forget the aches,
Forget the pains,
the heaviness in his bones.
Forget his dreams
Forget his wish
for a life to call his own.
For if he stops
and if he rests
they will forget his name.
Always another
waiting their turn,
they’re all one and the same.
What is life without this?
the laughter, the cheers,
the applause.
it fills a void
almost enough
to be worth the flaws.
Maybe someday
the curtain will fall
and he can finally stop.
Earn the right
to live, to just be,
to finally be enough.
Until then,
spin on, little monkey,
until there’s nothing left.
Sing and dance,
little monkey,
spin on until the end.
Blabbaholics and Bookworms 