Deliberation

You’re sitting in the ice cold room,
Nothing but the chair you’re in, granite walls, black table,
and Reality sitting across from you.
He’s got a smirk on his face like he talked to Fate,
and he knows what’s going to happen to you.
Smoking a cancer stick that looks like it could have been
the Grim Reaper’s scythe in another life.
“This is it kid, time to decide. What’s it gonna be?” Reality asks
nonchalantly, flicking hell-hot ash from the scythe-cigarette.

You can still see Dreams being driven into the psychiatric ward,
tied up in a straightjacket, like Andromeda in chains.
He’s screaming your name as guards pull him away,
a few last words before doctors and steel doors sever you,
blocking you both from vision’s path.
His words resonate like a violin’s requiem; “Don’t give up, don’t let Hope fade!”
How did his eyes stay so heaven-calm as they pulled him away,
simply praying that Death wouldn’t come just yet,
that Fate was concocting a different plan?

You can’t help but wonder if Dreams is right.
What if Hope is still breathing in the ICU,
giving Life another reason to keep fighting?
Reality clears his throat, burning out the reverie,
and suddenly, despite how Fate has ignored your calls the past week,
like a prima donna to her misbehaving companions,
the answer comes to you.
It’s as if she’s standing right beside you,
a lifelong best friend, whispering secrets in your ear once again.