Another Sour Tear

The road to my heart is paved with tears,
Like a labyrinth with no clear path
Yet no dead-ends.
These winding streats bent worse than the lies I've heard.
Unstable rocky foot-paths,
Like black veins leading nowhere.
Forks in roads that end at one place,
But still I stop to ponder which to take.
So are the choices I make all futile?
Similar to luscious green trees, whose branches intertwine like the streets within me,
But still fail to bear fruit, reproduce, prolong existance.
So it is doomed to whither, its busy street-branches not even good enough for fire-wood,
In a fire that could have brought to life these dead streets that are my heart.
But there's no use in turning back, holding tight crass hopes
Of what would've, could've, should've been.
Drop another sour tear.