Unnamed Poem

I am waiting to turn on. Must I always have to choose? 
My decisions are no companions or enemies. That is only my relationship with myself.
My soul becomes bitter and my heart remains conditional. Must it always have to be like this?
My head swirls to the middle of what I must be be
when will I turn on and grow?
When will I not give into my own persona molds.

Stop staring into me. I see you are damaged too
We stomp on the bodies of the dead, yet their distribution of souls are within us.

I weep with you. I lie with you.
I must not choose the vulnerability of your given sides.