Joy Division

She never really had control
And so it wasn’t hers to loose,
Don’t you realise?
Her hands where made of silk,
However hard she tried,
How exactly was she supposed
To keep a hold of anything?
And so we realise that
Control which she
Is perceived to have lost
Has in fact,
Never existed to her
Except as a distant dream
From within her too close
Nightmare, Control
What?
Control,
Nothing,
I am afraid that is how
It was for her,
A division of joy
Much like the diffraction
Of light
into colour,
And yet completely the opposite,
Those pieces of joy,
Uncontrolled joy,
Become something
Quite different.