My flesh betrays me.

How do I explain the constant struggle within me?
My body feels like it has a mind of its own.

There was a time I had control.
I could tell it what to do:

“Hey, don’t do this.”
“Stop that.”

And it would listen.

How did it become so stiff-necked?
When did it grow this strong?

Then, suddenly, I realized I had lost my grip.
Slowly, I watched my control slip away.

I saw it do things I wasn’t proud of,
things I was ashamed to admit.

I would say,

“Stop right there,”

but it would only hiss,
turn away,
and walk on.