Age of The Circus.

Behind the gate, the carnival looked lively and merry. Upon entering, It smelt sour.

It was easy to get lost between the gaps of the boisterous games and shows. Especially if your spine was as coiled as the colorful swirled candy prizes.

Some even disappeared and camouflaged into the scenery of carnies and the sticky cement ash ground, never to be seen again.

I, on the other hand, was straight and narrow.

I Stuck out like a tack, popping the balloons of whoever’s eyeballs dared to stare too long.

My brain temporarily melted into a mushy bubblegum as I walked through the chaos of adolescence Mimes and the overgrowth of Siamese twins.

I saw an exit sign and my drum skipped a beat.

My Soul yearned for a way out, almost as soon as I had re-entered the flames of hell again. My feet stuck to the vomit and sugar cane on the ground, I couldn’t move.

My life flashed before my eyes. I knew he would eat me alive, if I didn’t leave immediately.

The Sun was setting and everyone knows the ring leader comes out to play at dusk. He eats the flesh of the sleek and fresh.

I grabbed the bottle of hard and dumped it on my feet. It melted the glue away and my drum did a double beat.

I ran fast and jumped over the fence. On the patch of prickly sharp grass I laid awaken by the pokes.

There I promised myself, to never lick the temptations of the circus haste again.

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