Our own paths

It’s so confusing,
Which way to go.
What should I do,
How can I know.

Talking to myself,
Words forever unsaid.
Verses of want put on shelf,
One day might be read.

Countless routes,
Each veiled in a mist.
Some unique, others;
a new name on a list.

It’s my choice,
Exactly what direction.
What I say and what I do,
My own vague projection.

To include more,
Hard to distinguish.
A route of pain and love.
Of happiness and anguish.

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