Quandary.

Would you simply laugh at me, if I told you my soul?

Would it be something that guided you to my heart?

Or simply a path towards my hearts demise.

A destructive course of sorrow.

For I wish to expand this reality that I inhabit, to create something that enlightens the shadows within.

Would it be to much, as well, as to wish upon the chance of joy?

To bestow my future, with something, deviant, something, Taboo.

Ways that make myself hesitant towards the world around me.

And open Pandoras box, to create an alternate future, in which I seek my treasure.

Who’s to say, what the outcome would become, if I somehow created a more pleasant existence for myself.

In what right do I have to question the determination of fate?

Its hard to say, really, as I have yet to ask such a question, and yet, am flustered by the result.

Afraid of outcomes that have been fabricated from the constructs of my mind, I suppose.

Situations that melt my spine, actually.

I tend to leave such things where things be.

Yet, I wish for you to understand this quandary.

This, thing ,that I cannot form association towards.

But, what is the question in which I wish to propose?

And if I ask it, will it change my fate?

Should I write a poem? ‘The way your eyes sparkle on the moonlight, destroys hate within me. This darkened heart of mine, shines brighter with every ounce of joy you exude.’

Does such things convey my question?

Perhaps, history could do it with a better result.

For years, you have scraped the broken pieces of my being, from the cold pavement below.

Constantly there, to destroy an ego, that must cease to exist.

Without question, I would be in a ditch on the side of the road, if you had not been there.

Its funny, in a way, how fate has put me here.

In between a question, and this reality.

But, fate be damned.

Here goes.

Will you, take this crusted soul, and polish it for years to come?

To give me, a little piece of your light, so that I might one day, give some myself.

 

 

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