Walk I must.
A pull here.
A push there.
No path I trust.
These thoughts are strong.
Go I will—
my choice still no choice.
might I be wrong?
Choices collide,
No voice but mine.
But thoughts that crow,
words that grow.
To stay pulls.
To leave pushes—
yes and no at my throat.
That's the war I walk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem