If ever there was
Whatever I could be,
The illusion of choice
to wrap and comfort me.
Whatever I choose
the consequences – each unique
Only to mimic what I seek.
I tear and gnaw
groping for opportunity
Vainly reaching for purchase,
Trembling to fail and be made a mockery.
Then I fade to mute,
Into a languid state
Frozen staring without intent
shackled by my choice, a limping gait.
Will I ever be free?
When can I just be me?
To live, breathe, exist just naturally?
I tuck myself into a disenchanted slumber
Believing another will never arrive
To awake and rub my eyes in disbelief,
Another shadow ready and alive.
The illusion is broken,
Choice no longer a hall of mirrors
The day will always cast another
There IS room for endless errors.