In the end.

Walking towards the colourful front,

something peculiar, it seems to be... 

I reach out to grab the colors, 

to paint my sorrows with the glee it boasts, 

As I reach out, it disappears into the whirling wind...

Why? I ask, but no answer. 

You are still a child, a voice in the back of my head said, sigh- society. 

Two roads leading to different destinations, 

Robert Frost all of sudden was writing in my brain, 

A joke to me, but a flat statement to all. 

But yes, two roads with different destinations did take its form right in front of his eyes, 

Not everyone got to choose one like Frost did...

So somehow men stepped into both and fell into pits each one held, 

and were glorified when they got up. 

The pitfalls of one was different from the other, 

the one who falls into a pit of one road has to wake up to be glorified, 

and one who falls into another road's pit should turn back 

and lose hope because this pit was right in the wrong road. 

The former doesn't always win, in fact he is more hurt, 

he walks and walks to approach the colorful front, 

he reaches out to paint his sorrows with glee, 

but it is indeed a mirage that disappears, 

but he walks... because he was in the right road with pits that were claimed to be wrong. 

Wrong was what it seemed, 

but in life walking on the bed of roses isn't always possible.

The man walks with his one foot in one road and the other in another, 

he did seem like a penguin, or a baby learning to walk, 

he was laughed at and taunted, 

one road pulled towards colors, 

the other one was filled with colors, 

so of course we know which one attracted him more, 

but he knew the latter's destination was mere darkness. 

Frightening darkness that had no hope, 

that would chain him up and taunt him even more, 

pleasure, it seemed for others...

but the demons dont attack when the birds chirp, 

but when crickets do... 

and not when everybody laughs, 

but when one lies in the pool of darkness of night.
Gladly, the penguin he seemed to be,
he was also as valiant as a lion,
For men who break bones aren't strong,
Rather who choose heart over head
And he did.
So he walked,
Soon the mirage turned into something hopeful,
The road which seemed to lead nowhere
Slowly unravelled to reveal something pure, serene...
Beyond the wordly feeling of success,
A sense of accomplishment ...
His dreams came true
With persistence
But that's not what made him feel so good,
It was the journey that mattered to him
He chose what others didn't,
He chose to be right to himself before being right in the eyes of others,
He chose to not to lie to himself,
He chose to love what he wanted
He chose to have faith
He chose to get up when he fell
He chose to feel accomplished,
And so he felt.
He was
A reassured soul that waited for its final abode.
Hopeful again, me being so meek
Wouldnt ask why,
Would walk through and dare to choose.
Like he did. A reassured soul is my final wish too.