Poetry: A Fake Author's Perspective of Control

A poem I wrote about what can happen
when we play the Author of our lives.

“Surrender”

I had displayed a fancy smile for all to see,
Flashed a bright lie like a red marquee.
I had controlled the pages of my own story,
Then shed tears when it controlled me.

Iron grip wrapped around my pen and my pain,
Flashes of lightening in my heart again.
I wanted life with no one but me to blame,
But I trod down a path of resentment and shame.

But as the pen fell from my ice cold hand,
My broken pride fell like rapid quick sand.
Time for pride to fall and surrender to stand,
And not expect life to go as I had planned.

Then I watched words I had written fade,
Disappear from the storyline I had made.
I threw off a character I had miserably played,
An Author of Life was what I had portrayed.

Then a Hand wrapped around the pen tight,
And began to write new things in my sight.
I was no author, and surrendered the fight,
As the true Author took over in all might.