If I could, I think, I would have chosen you.
The power to choose was with me, all along
but still I know you would never believe if I told you
that it was not me who was the one making the choices.

Many a times I feel, the choice for me was made
long long ago, even before I knew about decisions and their manifestations.
Long before I knew to think, rethink, long before I knew the power of my decisions 
over me, over you, over all of us.

In a vain, silly moment I decided without knowing that I was getting
into something I could never change, without wanting with all my heart.
Even to dare change it would alter who I was, who I am and who I will be.
The moment like one of those where passing by a field you discover the colour purple and stand transfixed.

It is my decision, but I feel no love towards it.
I don't feel enough hatred to tear away from it.
And I know my existence is stuck in a limbo.
Each breath tells me the tale of being hung forever and whispers ghastlily that its my own doing.

I listen to it and close my eyes, look upwards, look inwards and just die.