My Way

Another sonnet-writing attempt here. Maybe this blog will be dedicated to experimental writings, like this:

MY WAY

What is the best way to go? Simply cease

my old rebellion, buckle up and run
to do what is required to keep the peace,
even if it means I'll never have fun?
Or should I lift my chin and say, “No, I
have my needs. To myself I must be true.”
Life seldom offers such clear choice, so why
even ponder this? Why put myself through
this wilderness of doubt and self-defeat?
Why not carry on without giving care
to questions like, Should we march to the beat
of this or that drummer? Or sit in a chair
     and write a poem about saying goodbye,
    with rhymes and beat feet that sing to the sky.