Control
There was always a struggle between inner and outer.
My inner screamed leave, but my outer wouldn’t budge.
You sent a split through my control and you took half.
But it wasn’t yours to keep so I had to get it back.
I knew if I broke away I could steal it back and run.
But one I broke away, my feet just wouldn’t budge.
I should have stolen time, to heal my shattered soul.
I should have stolen courage, to take back control.
Instead I was given patience, which taught me over time,
I could earn all of it back; without ever stealing a dime.
This poem is about:
Me