Do you love me or hate me
in a world so split in two?

I trace your name like Braille.
I toss it before I’m through.

You call me soft, and I melt.
You call me weak, and I fight.

I dream of you in color.
I wake to black and white.

We meet in the middle—
where no one wins or lose.

If I could choose, I’d stay.
If I could choose, I’d leave.

But choice is the cruelest mercy
in a world so in between.