Crossroads

Never sure which way to go,
You stand on the crossing forlorn.
Choose you may, choose you must,
Between self and your destiny torn.

You try to hear, and you strain your eyes,
Whither color, where is bloom.
But both the ways, they are all the same,
Serpents in one, in the other gloom.

Turn left, walk fifty yards.
But make sure you're sure before.
For if you don't like the first fifty,
You must walk a fifty more.

So you raise your hand, and ask the question,
May I say something if you don't mind.
Am a bit of tired of this endless walking,
May I just take a look behind?

Well, look behind, if so you like.
But march ahead, Don't Budge.
So looking one way, and heading the other,
The rest of the way you trudge.