This is where the road spilts and time defines
This is the point where returns are weighed and decisions made
Do i leap?
Do i fall apart?
Do i follow, blindfold slipped and truth seen, and follow still?
do i stand?
Do i run?
do i stay, wheels clogged, mired down by my own reality
this is it
this is where i take a chance or sit back down
all this time, rooted to a fragile hope
building my illusions in the sand,
watching them float away in a summer breeze
molding dreams that shatter into longing and break into pieces that are more numerous than the stars
clutching at forevermore and what can never be
an ideal
a fantasy
a misguided belief
and the fool in me wants to believe
such a cliche
but here I am
and this is where it all comes to rest
this is where i need to be
this precipice
between what is truth and reality
