Poetry | Journal

Lost in a misery of choice,
with a mind clearly made up hours ago
I regret
to inform myself there never was
an answer.
no one will ever win.

To have no choice is pain.
But to have too many is worse,
and I feel cursed.
Frozen in time.
Paralyzed in lies.
Opposing options overwhelm me and
under a snow drift of sadness I say
I’m sorry
One of us has to loose;
one of us has to choose.

Retribution echoes 
in corners of my mind,
chased by regret and karma
it’s only friends.

Tell me,
What are the means to the moral end?