headless man, sitting still,
Three faces circle, bending his will.
One smiles bright, laughter loud,
The next one weeps beneath a cloud.

The third one snarls, eyes full of fire,
Each pulls him closer to its desire.
Happy, sad, and angry spins,
He’s trapped within their shifting winds.

No head of his own, no steady guide,
Just moods that crash, swell, and divide.
He sits there lost, silent, and small,
As the three heads tug, and tear at his soul.