I have it under control.
I am fine.
I control it, but it controls me.

When did I give up control?
When did I lose it?
I have it under control
and yet I am the puppet.

I am fine,
but I've said that sentence too many times.
So many times
that it has no meaning,
so many times that I can no longer define 'fine'.

Who am I when I am in control?
Who am I when I feel good?
Questions I don't know the answer to,
because I've lost control for too long,
misdefined 'good'.

I lived under the illusion that it was normal,
and left others under the illusion that it was the truth.

The truth is that I am a puppet who doesn't know what 'good' feels like.
The truth is that I am a person who has fallen for its own illusion.
And the truth is:
I don't know if I want to know reality.

© undying.poetry

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