In the grips of the coaster in my head

my mind is a mirror
my mind is a terror
for sometimes when I prod and poke
it shows me things I'd rather not behold.
but the spiral does not abort
we ride it through if we hit start.
and so I sit, pull the bar until it clicks
and watch my mind show me its tricks.
it paints but no colors that liven me
just washed out browns and blue melancholy.
in its songs I find no glory
just dull reality, drab muted fury.
the stories it  recounts are lethargy
as sombre and sad as a eulogy.

"decadent and perverse,
we've climbed stairs we cant reverse
when the arrogance will give way
the knees will buckle, limbs shall sway.
eyes widen as they stare
into the abyss below, farther than where we were.
jump and hope to cling on by the nails
or fall into depths and start again."

there is no end to our jousts I deem
me and my mind are always at war, it seems.
battle after battle, day after day
i can only surmise, there isnt another way.
for who has lived and been so wise
as to tell me the truth from the lies
when all of this life is an illusion for sure
seen through a mirror that may not be pure.