LIII | c o n t r o l

42 8 7
                                    

control


you are in control 

you are in control

everything lies in your hands

and you can be a self-made

one, as if that is not only

made up of human wishes

or some desperate mortal dream

made law of the world.


do not lie to yourself. 


you are not in control

you are not in control

fate spins you of mortal hopes 

and no, you have never been free

you have never been in control.

try to change yourself and rage a war

against who you are but let me tell you

that the one battle you will never win

is the battle against yourself and you

can scream at the mirror because your

body has become a war zone, never a 

temple or home (who has ever felt

at home with their body?) but fate.

fate is uncaring. 



fate is the invisible

noose tied around your neck

the string tied around you since birth.

hope it goes in favor for you. 

(keep your balance, dear delusional child, 

feet locked tightly on the stool underneath you,

one kick and you hang, dangling from a string,

swinging back and forth like a grandfather clock

your time is up.) 

each piece of you has been dictated 

by some strands of genes that you 

were not able to choose

each piece of you as mortal as the world

around you. 

stop. trying to seize a piece of control

when the thought is controlled by 

hands immortal above you. 


tell me if you have ever held onto the

reins of your own life for once

tell me if for once you ripped the compass

out of destiny's hands and decided that

north was south and west was north. 

tell me if you ever escaped the clutches

of the world, 

tell me, have you ever felt you were in 

control?




(and if you have, control is an illusion.) 



and when destiny changes you

because it is only fate who molds you, 

guides your innocent hands like

a little mindless puppet on strings,

a mind tricked to believe in freedom

a mind made firsthand by illusions,

relish in the delusion that you made

you. because delusions made you. 






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