Here I stand

listening to the voices
inside my head.
One voice, sweet and inspiring
like the taste of a
fresh, blood red strawberry.
The other voice, bitter and dispirit
like an unripe
yellow-green mango.
It seems to be that no matter
what I do, my conscience doesn’t react
when all I hear is these two.
Sweety tells me, “ Don’t be afraid.”
But Bitter says, “ You’ll never make it out alive.”
I listen closely, and although my heart
wants me to go with Sweety,
I choose not to.
Bitter convinces me; she convinces me to
stop dreaming, to stop thinking I could be myself.
And while Sweety turns gloomy, wishing
I could be just a little brave,
I walk away.
I walk through this dark and solemn
path, where this ground beneath me,
with every step I take, dissolves like sand in the ocean.
The wind, such powerful and fierce
strokes it was making; and with every stroke,
a message, for me.
“Go back!” it says, “You still have time to
follow the right path,” “if you continue
in this path, you’ll be alone.”
The wind was right; the other path,
barely visible yet illuminating
was perfect.
At the end of the golden path
were people with a lot of spirit
and happiness.
I was decided; I didn’t want
to be scared anymore, I didn’t
want to care anymore, I didn’t
want to hide ME anymore.
But it’s too late.
This ground beneath me has fallen,
and this time, I have fallen with it.