They say its a roller coaster ride
And after a whirl, past the broken cups
the spinning wheel, the bumper cars
Piloted by adolescents wearing
Cheshire Cat grinning mask faces
The brakes fail and we're soaring
Above it all, unaware that soon
There is falling, down down down
Into shatters like bits and pieces
Reflected in funhouse mirrors, teases
Of imaginary lives and closed spaces

With a loaded rubber tipped arrow
I shoot into the heart of reflections
And though the load is muted
Softened by wavering latent feelings
The purpose is served
At the entrance, a sign denoting
the ride
"out of service".