keeping the boiling turmoil controlled
wrapped tightly in an angry ball
in the pit of my inner being it hisses
between the knots.
but the rolling mass does not escape
it remains within my grasp
locked inside a nervous embrace
until it stops.
in the throes of death it lashes out
against psychological constraints
dwindling, whining as the fire grows cold
one last gasp
to influence my thoughts.
the ghost rises skyward out of sight
my spirit regains it's strength
i can once again control my fate
during the trials