Fun House Reflection

They’re amused. These spectators.
A day with stuffed bears,
With cotton candy that bites back at baby teeth,
And admiration for the fool in the Lion’s den.

They’re skittish. These spectators.
They’d stepped into a mad house.
And each one was greeted with a thousand copies.
Broken images of themselves:
The same half-smile with fidgety eyes,
Only paired with a distorted doppelganger.

They’re damaged. These spectators.
One thousand lethal battles settled
Identical sneers adorning each opponent
Each ready to be shattered
And when they all had fallen
The same eyes still stared back: challenging.

But after,
They’re roots. These spectators.
They’re tiny roots:
Stumbling about,
Foraging madly through rough soil
Ready to settle into dry cracks
Ready to go home.

So they say ‘good-bye’ to the circus
It’s kept them long enough.
And then they scatter. These spectators.
These spectators without a reflection.