Stuck, like a Tesla on autopilot—
Red light says halt, green light says go.
But here I am, motionless,
while life speeds past in every lane.
It’s not that I fear the road ahead—
it’s the which way that undoes me.
So many paths, each with a shadow of what if,
so many turns that might be wrong.
I ache to move, yet freeze instead—
not out of laziness, but the weight of choice.
And still, I know:
Standing still might be the greatest wrong of all.
