Conflicting Crossroads

The conflicts in my head blossom beautifully everyday
The situations present themselves as the perfect manure
I stand at the cross roads every inch I move
Now I realize, its a lonely journey to finding answers
No lovers, no mothers, no sisters, no fathers, no brothers, no friends and no teachers can come along
Its you, blindfolded, walking on a thin rope
With you heart navigating your soul towards the light
Do you smell the light? Do you feel the light?
The peace my heart seeks doenst exist in sex, food, money or fame
At each cross roads I break hearts
And I wonder, was I meant to do that? Was I meant to harm?
The path that brings pain, all my maps show the same
At each crossroad I lose a piece of my old self
I wonder if anyone can make me whole at the end of this road
Or will I become food for the vultures along the way, who knows.
Is it good to live a life being hated but following rules?
Does living a good life yet becoming a disgust to everyone make any sense to you?
There is no way to know. You just take a step and the path behind you closes forever
Can we bribe time to cut a slack?
If so, what can we offer the most greedy entity ever invented
We learn lessons as we get crushed each time
The more rules you start following, the more it hurts
The more hatred it will attract
The more lonely one will become
At times it feels like living a dirty life, but aint it hard to change the character
What is correct  and what is wrong, who can answer?
Can the God in a stone explain or the God without faces?
Our hearts are what we fill it with
Fill it with hatred, they become monsters
But can we ever maintain a balance? Between whats good and bad?
Can we wear our hearts as is? Wont that scare everyone around?
Can anyone say they wear their hearts on their faces? In their lifestyle?
No one does.
Whats more devastating is the fact that when someone tries to,
Like vultures, they pick your face
Make cuts and holes until you look like a formless being
Then make fun of you for becoming one
At each crossroad we lose a piece of ourselves
But at the same cross road, we either become Godly or Monstrous
Only the time can tell the tale