BALLOON

Inflatable, excitable
Bloated bladder
Pumped by imagination
And hope which the human
Spirit lives on

In cicuses, fairs
I keep smiles on faces
I have a smiling face drawn
Yet I'm a mixture inside

Pricked a little here and there
Left alone after playtime
I shrink in a quiet corner
Slowly, living out my death
I am but empty inside
Sustained by random particles
Observing an unseen force
I am but a balloon