Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Limitations of the human heart,
So fickle and feisty and miserable.
Like a coin with two-faces apart,
I flip it like a switch as I gamble.

Losing my warmth like I've died,
I kept on walking barefoot in the Arctic.
I've lost my senses and forgot how to walk,
I fell down and drowned in the cold.

Feelings of contentment, "I tried."
Feelings of madness, "It's chaotic!"
Feelings of hopelessness, "Aftershock..."
Feelings of warmth, "No!", I called.

I wanted to give up all hope,
Inhumane to every emotion,
All I wanted was to cope,
But love was a miserable affliction.

As I tread this path of harsh winds,
Guided by what seems to be light,
I fell down into the ice-cold ocean,
And as I drowned, it was warm afterall...