Stuck in the middle of the road I was,
March ahead slowly or waddle a while,
Mind was confused and legs so desperate,
Took the sloppy way that cut through the woods,
Neither ahead, afraid of the unknown,
Nor behind, as tired of the traversed path,
This transparent neutral way posed no threat,
As always been the one to choose the third,
From the available choices of two,
Know that hell is reserved for the likes of me,
We wear our weakness by not speaking up,
During times of severe moral crisis,
Scared we are to face the reality,
Contented we are to evade the mess.
Connect with Penmancy:
Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!