Rudder
Consequences are mine to behold,
sluggish with the weight of another.
Morals I bought repeatedly sold,
finished rebuilding my rudder.
Mentally ill with a heart of gold,
forgetting the feeling of rubber.
Automatically doing what I have been told,
my ancient dreams lay covered.
Trimmed white sails, I dodge the boom.
Steered into rougher waters.
Letting you in may spell certain doom.
My heart once again flutters.
Belay the start of something new,
shadows of familiar discord.
Sinister words in search of reward,
am I ever prepared to suffer?