It is your circus

It is your circus
They are your monkeys
We all are here as the world’s entropic boxed junkies
Indeed it is true that ambivalence glue
Covers all of the pieces of love’s hidden clues
An alliance with fears’ last crumbs and pieces
I will no longer even listen
That I am not worthy of your golden drama filled beaches
We made up a play where we all are the
King and all at the effect of some thing you can’t see and what if you found out it was beckoned from you
And in the final act no one is a pauper a loser or gets screwed
Some will come sooner but no one is last
And the world and its people return home at last