Cheerio tombstone(edit1)

cheerio tombstone

The golden cow reflects on her beauty before becoming the prize
slaughter. History is the repition of irony; a monkey banging on a
keyboard obsessed with one note. His tuxedo is on backwards. I'm
reflecting on a mirror I can't see and thinking how perfect cheerios
are until you eat them. There's something about breaking circles that
makes me uneasy. Circles remind me of the circus which then arouses old
memories tinged with a firm belief in magic and idealism. But, I've
seen evil. I've seen joy crushed by a stampede of twisted pride. Now, I
walk atuned to a dangerous reality breathing in the pores of space
around us. Instead of only noticing kind hands I see shadows where
fingers hold strings swiftly moving deceit.

Jared Simpson