Lady at the cross roads

Weep, my lady at the cross roads.
The paths of life diverge
And they are what you make them.
A hanged man on one corner,
No sign posts on the rest,
Long and dusty all.
The roads are rough,
But a mist hides the most,
A dead tree with your man,
No sign posts have left no holes,
Complete but missing,
all guidance gone.
Run down your road till the end,
At whose cross roads will you be?
At mine I say,
half hidden by the mist the tree creates a shadow
The rope just makes the creak.
The end I say,
the end it is,
For you not me,
Still to make the choice have I,
Behind I leave you,
(hanging on a tree)
As I walk my path
Into the mists,
at the end,
On whose crossroads shall I be