February

These walls tighten around me as if an assassin’s own piano wire was at my throat

There is no time

I have to choose

I have been here before

The crossroads of yearning and unknowing

My heartbeat echoing itself throughout these empty chambers

I could escape this breathing labyrinth

Grab the mud covered hand that reaches for me

Tread til my shoes run bare and the blood from my heels mix with the clay

Or I could turn back

With what I know and what I don’t know as the true causes for retreat

And shelter myself in the thickest armor forged in the hottest fire

Or

As all history suggests

I will play only the fool

And I will allow these walls to crush me