My hands may be shaking,
but I'm in control.
Everything is flying by at rapid rates,
so I catch and cherish what I can.
And sometimes it's good what I hold.
Sometimes, it's my last desperate attempt.

It may be a poison berry,
rather than raspberry.
Control could be what's leading me a stray.
Taking me down a path towards a slippery *****.
But I insist I'm okay.
If I say it enough, I believe it.

Tears well up in my eyes,
my head tilted back to ensure a disguise.
Everything spinning in circles around me.
I try to catch up,
as my head stars pounding.
And I realize, control lies.