Crossroads

These really don't have much art of language in them... I'm not sure if they are really poetry. But they are something, so here they are

Crossroads- Part One.

To a crossroads I have come,
it seems.
To the right,
one I may love,
familiar days,
and all I've hated
and all I've fought for and against.
To the left,
my freedom,
an unknown life,
and the chance to fail
and the chance to lose these chains
and myself.
You stand beside me now,
saying nothing.
For the first time in my existence,
there is total,
encompassing
silence.
It is not what I imagined.
There is no peace within me,
no stillness
to tame my conflicted soul.
This is not what I wanted.
I turn to look at you,
to cling to you,
to ask you:
what is right?
But all at once I realize,
if I go left or I go right,
I will be wrong
and If I go right or I go left,
I will be right.
This is my choice.
I am defining
my own
"right,"
either way that I may go.
Left or right
or wrong,
I do not know,
but I must choose
and I must go.


Crossroads- Part Two.

At this crossroads, I still stand,
conflicted.
I glance to my right,
with the same, dreary landscape
stretching as far as the eye allows.
And to the left,
the road is obscured,
along with any hope
of telling what's to come.
I turn to you once more,
the sadness
in your eyes,
a reflection of my own.
You know where you must go,
to the right,
you have no say.
But I do,
and I cannot follow you there.
The silence
still surrounds us both,
heavy with sadness.
"Goodbye, love,"
a break
in the stillness
as we break
and become two.
This is what I define
as right,
this way that I will go.
Left, now
right or wrong,
I do not know,
but this I choose,
so I must go.