Life used to be so
Clear cut.
You made no choices,
Other's did for you.
Life handed you
A card,
And all you had to do
Was play it.
When a tree gets cut down
It doesn't know what it's going to be.
But that all gets decided for it.
It gets cut
From the rough shapes
To a beautiful object.
It makes no choices,
Just gets handed something
And it just goes along with
It all.
No decisions.
Why can't life be
Like that?
We wouldn't make our own choices,
We would get handed choices,
And opportunities.
And that would be our life.
Decided for us.
Perfect.
Or would it be?
