it\'s suffocating
like a blanket held over your face
the decisions,
the option, of the two, is there
and, its encouraged
but hearts break
and my longing would not subside
though the object of my desire would,
as all things do.
to stay, or to go
it\'s an old story, with no end
a novel written by the suicidal author
he\'ll never pick the right choice
because there is no right ending.
only the blanket
firmly wrapped around his head.