Merry-go-rounds; she
watched them spin
'round and around,
'til the earth is blurred
with patches of bliss
and innocence; they told her
by saying nothing, and showed her
the world is not perfect,
not ever, from the start,
when gardens grow apple trees
and little girls climb up not knowing
it's wrong to reach out to be free
from truth, of reality's grasp,
that she falls hard, still holding on
to shooting stars, still wanting to
catch that tangerine which seems to
twirl like merry-go-rounds, even though
she knows deep in her heart,
it will taste bittersweet.

Show her a little love.
A little is enough.

This one is rather ambiguous with hidden metaphors,
but imagination is yours to interpret,
so read it again and tell me what you think.