The Swings

The swings,
the lonely swings.
What can they do,
many, many things.
They can go all directions,
any one you’d like.
And sometimes they move by themselves,
better than a bike.
But if there’s someone on them,
it transports them to a place.
A place of joy and happiness,
an exhilarating race.
You’re transported somewhere far,
without any hate.
Somewhere quite magical,
a place you can create.
It’s all in your mind,
you can come as you please.
But be careful when you go,
you just might be a tease.
When you’re not swinging,
you’re all alone.
You’re poor and submissive,
bowing to the throne.
The people that make you swing,
are the people you thought you knew.
Well, maybe they’re having a bad day,
you know it’s not true.
They hurt you, they break you,
make you their pawn.
In their little game of chess,
your emotion to begone. 
And maybe you’ll try to fight back,
you’ll stand up for yourself.
But then you’ll get shot down,
put upon a shelf.
Now you are forgotten,
you’ve lost your wings.
And you’ll never ever feel,
how you did while on the swings.