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