I have only been to the circus a couple times

But there are a couple things about it which I clearly remember

The controlled chaos

The performers and the beasts

The colors and the speed

The sounds of the music and the sounds of those in glee

I feel like a circus, but not in my complexion

My brain runs in circles

And performs beyond what's expected

I dream of projects, but forget them because the speed is too fast

Every movement must be thought out

Or the control will not last

And much like a circus,

Controlled chaos is dangerous

It take but one mistake

For the end to arrive too soon

I wish to be more like a library

Calm and full of knowledge

With a core a librarians who can find something

No problem

My core is a ringleader

An exotic mastermind

A guy with lots of sympathy,

Except when medicated he says goodbye

A library would bring joy still

Loads of people like books

And my thoughts would be well documented

In case in the future i wished to look

But the circus is not documentation

They roam like wild animals

Their purpose is to do their job

And move to the next one scheduled

A library has no rollercoasters, no circus rides or sugar drinks

No faulty machined death traps

On which the children scream

A circus has no goals.

Only a general intention if at best

This is me, no goals only a direct or at rest

No doing only thinking

No being calm unless all gone

Of all that matters to being me

I try to be a library

To study and  to read

But a circus is ever moving

Ever moving with great speed

So i can never find them when i look

Some days the ringleader goes missing

He takes a vacation on his own

Those are the worst because even than joy becomes a curse

Joy becomes a memory, or a event and only that

Never lasting for more than a moment, never passing only passed

For when the ringleader can not organize

The freaks they are let loose

They chase the passed, and the past

And chaos is their food

I feel at peace when like this,

But society it grows scared

For what can you do

When you find a fool,

That plows through all, and destroys the rest

When you live on switch,

With only chaos or apathy,

Its to feel it all or not at all

To live insane, or with no personality

It's a struggle

Which to many doesn't make sense, much like this poem.