The System Works.

Taken on its own merits
The system works.
Constrictive
Painfully so
But you won't hear me complaining
No!

I want a knock at the door
Like a bomb in my bed
Pistol under the pillow
Pills on the desk
Let them come, oh, let them come
I'll take them one by one.

Jaw clenched
Hands raised
But not in anger
Not in vengeance

This is just a dance
And I think you missed your turn.

But don't worry
Don't worry
It'll come round again
Like the endless carousel
No horses and no music
And definitively
Nothing close to a child.

By James Reid