Choosing, you never made
a choice. Not choosing was
a choice unto itself.
How do you find your voice,
when, if you do, you don’t,
and if you don’t, you do?
When everything is black
or white, and there’s so little
room for gray, who decides
what’s right or wrong?
Our tragedy lies in extremes:
every hour is night or day,
all the in-between is gone,
and so, we miss the subtle dusk
and so, we miss the gentle dawn.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
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