Over

over and over,
in my head.
like a merry-go-round,
in an abandoned park.

turning in creaks,
and it just won't stop.
somersaulting in slow,
flip flop, flip flop.

mulling it in sequence,
it just seems to me,
forgiveness is not a choice,
blessing will not be a thought.

once before, in truth,
wanted it all to be just as well.
the blood ran out.
and now it's sealed.