I meet fork after fork after fork in the road.
Every single time I circled back here
through my entire life I have persisted to the right,
side-eying the forgone left as I carry on,
wondering if it was really the best choice.
Today I am both nothing and far too much.
Surely, one day this well will run dry.
This “Balrog” certainly has it’s own agenda — it has only one direction it wants me to take.
That beast comes at me with a new fury.
It’s rabid, vapid, and it’s preparing to charge.
It’s enraged at the sight of me and on a wild offensive now.
I know you’re tired of the shifting
Between shimmering and rotting…
Sometimes I think it’s gone and am convinced I’m free, even if I know it’s just for a little while. “I’ve had a good week”, I say to myself, and I say to others, and I’m smiling.
Then there’ll be someone in the know…
That beast awakens again tonight.
It smells my weakening will, and my confusion.
It smells them, and its appetite is aroused, after fasting for days.
It salivates at the thought of me;
at the thought of tasting me.
Sometimes all I have to do
Is stand firm glaring
Insist upon my place
And it will yield the path…
I hope I’ll have so much more to say;