Torn

I am torn.
Torn between the saying and the doing as they no longer walk in harmony.
Icicles are beginning to populate the space underneath my left breast.
The roller coaster that never seems to rest.
Confusion infects.
Torn.
Wishing I had the answers and that they only played on level ground always within reach and visible instead of playing 'hide and seek' in a forrest perched haphazardly two thirds up a lonely mountain.
Like a child lost in its own make believe.
I want to point my finger and blame you because, after all
You said You did You asked
But I no longer have the energy.
My insecurities have silenced me.
I sit crossed legged at this crossed road crossing my fingers as I ponder my next move.
Wondering whether deep down, in the depths of everything that you are, it would even make a difference whether I went left or right.
Am I fighting for a worthy and noble cause or am I simply punching a gossamer sack only half filled with the illusions of war.
Reflections of grandeur.
Torn.