A long-awaited decision,
taken after days of self deception,
of thoughts, of missed direction.
A puppet blown by the cold wind of December,
through the plane and grown fields,
on paths overgrown by skinny embers.
I’m gonna tell you what I wanted,
in my mind, my secret confession.
The choice I will be following,
the help I need to escape the voice that entangles me,
one two three, one two three, one two three.
So close so far,
a happy song on the background.
The sound of food cooking up.
One two three.