Pathways
The fork ahead of us won't hesitate to decide As you hold my hand Tightening your grip won't leave my consciousness See the first fork Green grass and blooming cherry blossoms on each side The road is long and unending as far as your eyes could hold The latter is dark and rough Fog dangling above your head Towering pine trees terrifies you But the light in the end of the road shall be seen if you relish Voices in our head pleas I tighten my grip only to let go The last time I touch your fingertips as I lost myself in the darkness Leaving you in the tip of the fork