The grinding gears whir

Grey rusted creaks; wretched, unceasing

In both directions, rotating

You said come run away with me

We’ll join the circus, it’ll be a breeze

You’d look so sexy on a trapeze

They say once we arrive, there’d be no one waiting

Better than wasting, misplaced, unaging

A solo show then; bravo!

The tones change

Ripples dance across his face

I remain arrested

Performing in a parade for a crowd departed