Living with dementia is like riding on a carousel.
I said dementia is like a big old carousel.
And you can’t get off, though it turns into a hotel.

Year after year they reserve you the same place.
Year after year they save you the same old place.
They forget your name, but they never forget a face.

Who’s going to visit you? Don’t expect your friends.
No use getting up for visits from your friends.
It goes on this way and who knows how it ends?

Well, you sit there, baby, and you don’t say a word.
Yup, there you sit, not saying a single word.
Or if you did, I guess I never heard.

Sometimes I wonder what’s going through your head.
Yes, who knows what is cooking in your head?
No one gets to look in there till you are dead.

I’d like to cry, but I have no more tears.
I said I’m done crying, I’ve run out of tears.
Before and now and after, years and years.

—Rachel Hadas