My Beloved Merry-go-round

    She is as fierce as a gladiator, yet an elegant melody. That is what I love about her. We are not exactly distant neither far. One could say we are like water and fire. Like a merry-go-round On cold days, we would be sour. On sunny days, we would be as sweet and vibrant like spring flowers. At times I would loath her, from the knives of words she would throw. Yet that loathing wouldn't last a second, as my love for her outshines any hatred that grows between us. My mother, sometimes a bother, never fails me to love her.