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Tuesday, May 12, 2015


Do I choose wrong?
Do I choose right?
Or do I choose Choice?
They tell me, “It's not nice:
This choice of Choice.
It's almost a vice,
If the choice is Choice.”
But without this choice,
I can't hear my voice,
My feet freeze like ice,
Imagine my plight!
To breathe, to live,
Is not a vice,
It's a slice of life
Pretty and nice.
To soar in the sky,
To fight with might,
It's a slice of life
It's my choice.
And so I shall choose,
Neither wrong nor right,
For none shall suffice.
I choose Choice,
For it's not a vice,
It's a slice of life,
Pretty and nice.

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