I suffered from a bit of procrastination, but it's still April! So, in honor of National Poetry Month, here's my best shot:
Corruption of Control
my hearts turns soft.
Control turns me inward.
Not in love outward,
or in thanks upward.
Scavenging to acquire, I forget.
my hearts turns hard.
False control seeds selfishness.
Empty comfort sprouts weakness.
Luxury blossoms greed.
White, gripping with fears.
Sweaty, clinging in tears.
Gripping that which gives me control.
Clinging to that which fills the hole.
gripping and clinging -
to shadows of reality.