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

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