Two worlds,
One pure, wild, and free
The other far more “Civilized”.
Code-bound rules stark against
Childlike simplicity with one law only:
-live or die.
To which do I belong?
Both call me
Both have some claim to my affections.
A balancing act
And I am swinging wildly out of control.
I know what is right
And yet, I cannot do it.
Moderation, it seems, takes more control than I could know.
I like this world – I am, after all,
Clothed, sipping tea while I write with a manufactured pen
On manufactured paper.
But oh, how that one calls!
The sleek black night, cool summer breeze, and clean fresh air await.
I am as a victim, torn between two sirens,
Each singing lovely songs.
But it is not so bad.
I, at least, have a choice.

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