I feel like I've been here before.
At this same crossroad, where the signs are missing.
Both roads are covered in thorn bushes and poison ivy,
But one is shorter,
And at the end of the shorter road there is someone waiting for me
To take my hand and hold me;
To heal my cuts and bruises from the thorns I walk through.
But do both roads hold the same destination?
Or will one road bring me into a circle,
And back to where I am now
Like it did last time?
I still have the scars from then,
They taught me not to hesitate.
But still I do hesitate.
Is this really déjà vu?
He certainly thinks so.
Has it really come to the point
Where She does more bad than good,
And is no longer worth holding onto?