Flounder

It must be great where you are,
floating aimlessly,
no rush,
no hurry,
the excitement of a world
that revolves around you,
your every whim catered to,
food literally falling from the sky

Then you circle left,
circle right,
circle around
and around,
the pebbles of your zen garden
always in the right place,
just the way you like them

Such freedom to be had,
you are your own,
but... at what price?
Through the looking glass,
a prisoner of unwanted vices,
unaware that on this stage,
you, are the clown.