Turning Heads

Ignore it... what bliss
Turn your head; find happiness.
But you are kindhearted
With a crown of intellect
Why do you turn away?
There is pain at the sight,
A most agonizing form
If the eyes were to stay.

To sit and dwell
Is to compose your own Hell.
Be dumb and be free;
Blind, busy... happy.
Let this jungle consume you
Let it breathe in your smell.
You are part of the cycle
The wane... the swell.

But who are you,
To submit to the great circus?
You, A mere speck, on a dot
Among an orbit continuum,
Life here sustained
By the fearsome burning sun.

Your head of youth, once filled
With intent to be the jungle king.
Those lofty dreams now waste away,
For your tamer is the ring.
All living will decay
You, the feeble lion king
Lie down
Obey