The Price of Every Choice

We crave a life that others envy.

We care little for the consequences of our choices.

We convince ourselves that only bad decisions come with a price.
But I’ve learned, good or bad, that every decision demands payment.

Before I understood life’s rules, I wanted to be everyone’s favorite, and I was.
They taught me the ways of the streets, how to love them, and how to hate them.
The streets give life and take it away; there is no clean way in or out.
They told me to smoke, to let the clouds carry my problems away.
They told me to use my body and that it would take me places.
But no one mentioned that life or death is the only way out.
They forgot to warn me about the judge who lives rent-free in my conscience.

You wonder how you managed to ruin every dream that once felt within reach.
Sometimes, you sleep and forget to bring your dreams with you.
Sometimes, you chase someone else’s dream, leaving your own for your shadow to devour.
You try to be perfect, to right your wrongs, but you stumble, breaking every bit of that perfection.
Your scars shake your heart like earthquakes, tempting you to join the drunken man who only finds joy in his bottle.
You sit, ready to fight your fears, but they look like an abyss, so instead, you wait for death.

I asked life for a way out, and the options were bleak.
End it myself or die in the wrong hands.
Live as a burden or embrace insanity as freedom.
Obey and be disrespected, or disobey and earn respect.
They never mentioned that karma never forgets.
The lady in the dark whispers that karma never plays fair,

And I wonder if she asked karma before shaping her life in the ways she wanted?