Control

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As long as the bird could remember,
She wanted to venture into that vast expanse,
Be carried by the wind,
Guided and controlled,
Every decision made for her,
When the fateful day came,
And her wind started to build her a storm,
It did not entice her like predicted,
It scared her,
When did I become the bird?
And when did you become the wretched wind?
The thing that scared me, not guided me,
The thing that took me over,
Not in a gentle breeze as I had anticipated,
No, you threw me into your storm,
Not letting me look back,
You call yourself honest,
And maybe that's the problem.

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