trimmed

I trimmed my life
with small, pointed
scissors, cutting
tight to the edge

of reason - neatly
removing untidy
pieces, which had
frayed through

years of neglect,
as if, in the doing
I could restore
the illusion of

what I called
control, but which
had little power
to influence, let

alone dictate.
And so, the years
were neatened and
brought to order.

Or so I told myself.