In the End

Left to my own, Walking upon my path Has become a most dangerous adventure Decrying that I should be able to choose For myself, As to what is best for me! And my brain, having registered the amount Of pain that I have accumulated across the years, Has taken to be the patriarchal figure that I lack, guiding me firmly and stoically, Bent upon the safekeeping of my honour And the pride of having my ego always Boosted up! But then, my heart, so frail and feminine Can help you but gently command me To throw away my swords, And to kneel upon my knees, Hands joined, to beg, for that which I yearn with the zeal of a needy child! I stand in the middle of them both And as if such was not enough, I have to keep receiving society's blows, Which try to define my choices! But in the very end, Somehow, somewhere, my mind itself Whispers it to me, That we all know, that the one I shall Choose to follow shall be none other Than my heart, even if it is a bleeding one!