A carnival sideshow,

In a dreary backlot, dirty and dim,

An eerie aura escapes the sullied tent, a mesmerizing glow.

Artifacts and ornaments adorn the rafters, hanging threadbare from the brim,

An alter accosted by dreary dreams and fantasies tonight,

Cards of black magic and a crystal ball beckon you into inquisition.

The infernal device glistens as it hears the mind’s plight,

The ball shimmers in a clouded stupor, goading you to delve into superstition.

The cards burn with purple and green fire,

Filling the mind with false fathoms, fear, and collusion.

Time and sensibility become obsolete on the march up Madness’s Spire,

As the mind falls victim to the masters of illusion.

The magic tells you what you want to hear,

And shows you what you want to believe.

A twisted plot that is neither now nor near,

 With a distorted story stolen from those who grieve.

A carnival sideshow,

Under the shadows of the flickering light.

Tells you all that you need to know,

And sends you away with unfounded fright.

Photo by Virgil Cayasa on Unsplash