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.