Reminisced controls

I thought things were in control but the shrieking sirens and muted cries furnished me a child’s greenly appetite or a fifty’s thirst for iron-tarnished juice. I thought things were in control Yet I grasped the air and choked by choice. Things before were not in tangled looms Reckless weaves were thought-of souvenirs And the steps I took brought me close to life’s regalia Today, instead, I tread an inch close to a tight-lid box’s identical faces. The life I planned intricately in details Turned to post-its on said lifeless walls. Stumbling and struggling to regain focus when the world forced you to walk in fine-hair twine now, I thought, I am no longer in control.

- Marron Aerielle