Crossroaded
At the crossroads,
Where the north road,
Goes south to meet the one
From the east where it turns west.
In these old world
With wild paths the teen stood
Not knowing where to go
Helpless like a convict on a hangman's noose.
He couldn't go back north
Where he had come from,
The path was already blocked.
To the south where he was heading to,
It was quicksand,he chose it.
East or west was safe,
But he wasn't willing to choose either.
At the crossroads,the teen stood
His fate undecided by drugs.
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