A morning's word

Choice is such a limited word.
It implies options where the notion is absurd
And so we blame each other for our tears
And so we say the only thing to fear is fear
As if the world is a safe warm place
For those who know the way.
It only becomes dangerous
To us as choose to stray
Like Persephone picking her flower.
Stay on the path.
Don't eat the fruit.
Yet knowledge is power
And power is truth.
Contradictory notions fed by the years.
Don't wallow.
Don't wander.
Don't cover your head.
Do what needs doing
Or soon you'll be dead
And whining is weakness
That smells like wet dog.
(And poetry's madness, but not dialogue.)

Choice is all that anyone has.