POEM STARTER
Submitted by snoop
Write a poem about something getting washed away, either literally or metaphorically.
Control
Control.
I need control.
When I feel Iâm trapped I canât breathe,
I canât think,
I canât function.
The solution is control.
Control, control, control.
âIâm in control.â
Right?
I canât control the weather-
If itâs too hot to run outside.
I canât control how often I get to see you-
If my mom thinks itâs âtoo much.â
I canât control my mind-
If Iâm sane or broken or okay.
I canât even control my own fucking sleep-
If I escape my mind before 2:45 am.
If I had a therapist,
They would probably tell me to think of what I can control.
That sounds reasonable, right?
I wouldnât know.
Iâm going insane in my own head,
Dying in the prison that is my mind.
Iâm drowning and I donât know who could pull me out from the water.
But itâs okay.
I have me.
And I think she might want me dead,
But itâs fine.
Right?
So hereâs what I can control:
I can control if I smile or not-
If I let my dead eyes take over my face.
I can control if I make an effort-
If I try or let myself fall to pieces in this chair.
I can control if I shut them all out-
If I blast music and stop interacting.
I can even control if I grab those scissors-
If I go for the real control.
But I donât want that choice of control.
Anything but that option.
Because for every bit I gain,
I lose more.
I know that.
I know itâs wrong.
âŠright?