Life is a roller coaster, so they say,
One that is ridden night and day.
There are ups and there are downs,
As the roller coaster goes around.
Each person has a home as a cart.
Some perfect, some torn apart.
My cart had no wheels or bars,
It's dragged behind the other cars.
Going down, I fight to not fall,
The ups are really very tall.
Some carts have added protection,
Mine just has a moss infection.
Once in a while you can be a guest,
Getting to sample some of the rest.
In the end your cart is your home,
And once again you are alone.
Sometimes those who visit stay,
But not in my cart, they run away.
The other carts draw their eyes,
They don't even notice my cries.
This cart is my home I love it much,
I think it has a warm, caring touch.
But it seems no one else can see,
Past the cart that is hiding me.