Two Sides

I walk on a narrow thread

To the point of a dream that was sown

Will I sprint or slowly tread ?

Or will just turn back and return home

I try to reach for a hand or two

But can’t really see, who is who ?

When I hold one hand to trust and confide,

I generally find, there are two sides

As I realize, I pull back the hand

And I barely manage to stably stand

I cover my eyes and my wounded face

How can I even stay in this mad race ?

For a moment, I choose to cringe and cry

And then I rise again to give another try

Now I see clearly, straight ahead

And I put firmly, on my two toe, my weight

I walk quietly, in snail pace

And I too, wear another face

Now, I know with eyes open wide

To any hand stretched, there are always two side