On The Merry-Go-Round Poem by Mark Heathcote

You take your chances
On the merry-go-round
The carousel horse ride;
Paper-chain—doll-linked—cutting-room
Where there's just no solitary room
So, I guess you're going to fly
So, I'm guessing you're going to roll
Till you find yourself back home.

Beaten, bruised and all alone
A tenderfoot on the wrong shore
With just a fortune cookie of trust
To get along with, with all you must
The faster the wheel spins
The dizzier we all feel it's mysterious
How I have, not yet, fall off
Lost-my-spinning, top.