Controlled

The worries of an old man, kept for no one,

His passions lost in depth, they were tired and done,

All of the people he met said he was corrupt,

Every bone he possessed had to disrupt.

In the dark he felt good,

Through the painful heart, he felt good.

Convinced from broken feelings, woken and weak,

Confused by the daylight, promised to never speak,

Again and again he swore to never hear them, but forced to ache,

He fell in despair, tainted from memories, alone he would shake.

In the dark he felt good,

Through the painful heart, he felt good,

Day and night, he had to be good.

Ricardo Rodrigues

11-10-2012