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The knife cuts both ways
Each side as sharp, but what can I say
One cut it'll make at the end of the day
Two choices, two roads
Each one as dangerous in this unknown
This cursed dilemma will only grow
An arrow, a knife
No such thing as "free" in this life
Each lie a truth, each truth a lie
No strength, or no heart
Why must the weakness be so harsh
Can't foresee the death of this distant star
No worry, no peace
There are many traps you've yet to meet
Don't fret about who they want you to be
A winter, a spring
To my past self's life, whatever living may bring
Don't get lost in these petty things.
YOU ARE READING
𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗕𝗘𝗗
PoetryA story full of poetry and poems no storyline don't read it if you are sensitive to it . Don't like it don't read it
