I am that Ferris wheel buying my ticket and standing in line to catch a view up high and away from a world hopped up on ice cream and cotton candy.

I admit to crazy at crazy makers hand blaming you for rocking the cart when both are kicking the feet.

A performance of man hater scripted by a patriarch using me as punching bag before language understood what it was.

I played the part and used you as leading player perfect in laying the scene.

My dark humor tempted to get ahead of it with flashy lights and secret jabs to an apparition stuck in the same seat.

I am that Ferris wheel caught up in a game of who can care less and dodge the bullet that fate created with nobody to win and stuck at the top until maintenance spot us there.

Round and round each thinking the other is the fault but the ride comes to an end whether a truce be told.

A new line takes passage to play out their specific role in the carnival of who hates who more.

The crazy or the crazy maker

Until we remember that it is all just a ride for kids to entertain the crowd while mommy holds the bags and daddy gets the car.

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