TO CALL YOURSELF CONTROLLED

They say invincibility, or sense there of,
Comes with the state of youth,
Staring defiant to the heavens above,
But you, you collapse from the truth.

Fear shown limp in the whites of your eyes,
Of the risks that lay not taken,
Your sense of worth, collecting flies,
A helpless mind too scarred and shaken

The weakness that envelopes you,
And wants to grab a hold,
Of what it is that you fell into,
The nerve to see yourself controlled

Too stuck up on the love of past,
To see the small hopes of the present,
The future that approaches fast,
You squirm beyond your own consent.

Spine twisted with the burden of lowered head,
Bound with the weight of your own world,
That leaves you hollowed and nearly dead,
The last of prudence in fingers curled.

It hasn’t always been this way,
This turmoil inside,
What has happened to lead you astray,
From the happiness once felt with pride.

There’s still time to make the best of it.
To this you can’t regret,
Take as much to which you are fit,
This isn’t over yet.