Apparently I was still in a “dark”phase in my prose. I ponder the dark places in our heads and how much darkness may rest beyond our conscious? What brings it out? Safe places like putting pen to paper (or in this case, hand to keyboard)? Nightmares? Heartbreak? At some point every human being is faced with despair in one form or another. Does that bring it out? Do some people go through their whole lives locking any darkness away in an attempt to maintain a perpetually sunny world? Should we?
Choices are always there to be made,
the outcome to never be sure of.
They tear her apart
until she has nowhere to turn.
But she must make her move,
for better or worse.
The decision must be made
by her, and her alone.
The road to joy and happiness?
Or the road of sorrow and despair?
She decides to travel the road of joy,
but all she finds along it is sorrow.
The ring of trust or of deceit?
She slips the ring of trust upon her finger,
but all it brings her is deceit.
She is now at her toughest crossroad.
Does she decide to love or hate?
Her choice is easy.
She gives all her love but receives only hate in return.
Her final choice has arisen.
Shall she choose her choice filled life
or a choiceless death?
She is no fool.
She has learned her lesson.
So, soon she will die.