And it is pouring from heavens,
Likewise in my soul,
This burning possession,
Is one that is old.
It reaches a certain peak,
Then slowly disappears!
I hear them whispering; freak,
Pick up your spear!
A battalion of thoughts
In thousands,
Battle within a battle fought
In narrowing options.
Indecisiveness strikes again,
This damned struggle!
I try to squeeze my brain,
To quickly shuffle.
A decision well made,
Is one unknown,
Between merit and blame,
It is all blown.
Art by: Kristoffer G. Nøstdal
©dina.nass
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