No choice
I stand in solitude
I refuse to be the anchor
Upon another's neck.
I prepared for everything- I thought...
But being murdered slowly
By life itself?
Now that, I did not expect.
Time winds on
Like it always has
And perhaps it may
Always be so.
I have fought it,
Tried to stop it.
Ignored it all together
And even gone with the flow.
My actions
Make no difference
Every effort
My egos illusion.
Things will be
What they are to be.
And my want or will
Have no influence upon them.
Free will?
Yes...
Free to do as
Already predetermined.
Fate/destiny...
Call it what you want.
See it
However you want to see it.
It doesn't change the fact
That the past until the end.
Was from the future written.
Like a carrier pigeon returning to the place it was born.
It has no choice, by its instincts it is driven.
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