Some Kind Of Sick Merry Go Round.

I keep going round and round.
How I long for solid ground!
I hear you whisper in my ear,
That the end is almost near.

How soon is almost?
How close is near?
We don't learn from history.
We only learn fear.

Fear of change,
Fear of success.
Fear of what
Will come of this mess.

The carnival music
Played on a minor chord
Is yet another sick twist.
I think I'm getting bored.

This boredom is birthed
From knowing what's next.
I've been here before.
I've read this text.

We're about to fail,
Once again.
That's why I can bear it
With a bit of a grin.

Because failure births success
Though that's hard to see.
The ride's almost over.
Take it from me.