The Carousel

Bloody tired
Cranky and itching
Eyes swollen
My conscience bitching
No, not because of a
late night binging
After all these years
I still don't know 
how to stop my mind
from spinning
I wonder if it is
what a plastic horse
On a merry go round
Is feeling 
when it finally realizes
That it will never be 
The first or the last
On a fucking ride that
goes way too fast