Two Paths

There's a level of consideration to be taken from a simple statement

Because though a path diverges

And though we are noticing they they are both worn

While both may be coated in a shade of dried blood

We cannot assume that they are the same

For the paths are both rigid and flailed

They are both disgusting and trivial

And you cannot see where it is they will end

The one will poison you slowly, 

And perhaps you can hope that there is an antidote at the end of the road

And it will heal you when you emerge victorious

But the other one is full of prickers and nails

Of chainsaws and pitchforks

It is full of mad men with shotguns,

And conspiracy artists barking out at you to make sure you are white

It is full of burning crosses

And bastard etiquette

It is the epitome of torturous and while normally i would not condemn those who chose to take a different path

It is clear the paths are not the same at all

You can wear a blindfold and claim ignorance

But you will feel the pain when you enter into the fold.

Just give it a moment

Do you feel it yet?

Of course you don't, 

Because you are already dead.