Merry Go Round of Woe by Paul Griffiths

Hate only begets hatred
On this merry go round of woe.
Where everyone gets spun
So fast nausea kicks in.

Gathering in speed, vision impaired,
Head it is spinning, but everything’s blurred.
The organ grinder turns, as his monkey cries,
Cursing man’s evolution.

Blaming others for starting this ride
As it slowly comes to the end.
You see only your own reflection in a mirror
Looking back at you, in a thousand shattered shards.

He who casts the first stone
Is bereft of all conscience.
Self belief swallowed by self delusion,
Justified by the hypocrisy of self.

Force is used to force your view.
Blind hatred cannot see,
Yet it talks in tongues,
The language of deceit.

Where every act of horror
Comes gift wrapped in conspiracy
For apologists to condone, not condemn.
As the next ride now begins.

Tickets Please !

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