Control

I can't control everything,
Neither can I take the hurt people fling.
The one thing I thought I had controlled,
I watched it, before me fold.

Wanted to take charge of my life,
The simplest things: a struggle and strife.

Suffocated, envying a butterfly,
Sat wondering, what could that imply.

Then it dawned upon me,
This is what I wanted to be.
To set free and fly high,
Nothing to hold me back, tie.

"Absurd! you can't grow wings", I was told.
Indeed, 'twas but a metaphor for remould.

Convinced, I had this symbol on my etched.
This pain, by choice, upon myself I fetched.

The rush, the surge, getting inked brought.
Unlike any other experience, a revelation sort.

A divine creature, on my back spanned,
After a long time I felt grand.
Resplendent blue wings, steadying and tranquil,
Brought the turbulent waves to a calming still.

Now when I feel I might let slip,
The magnificent wings, they help me grip.

My only regret though, things I didn't do,
Wonderful possibilities, I know I blew.