A very sharp fork

I stumbled across a very sharp fork. The kind that cuts your face as you walk past. There were two clear roads.

The queen with broken dreams. The woman. The warrior jungle panther. She who knows that love rottens fast. She who knows that men are beasts with unsatisfying hunger. She who wants a true tribe. She who wants children taught by rabbits and birds, children free and happy. She who has lost all dream for men and befalls to loneliness among fake marriages. She who tattoos her lessons.
She looks at herself and feels safe. She's certain of the road to follow. She's willing to face life as it is, she has learnt from her battles. She knows how to be a mother, a whore and a friend at the same time.

Then there was the beautiful child.

The gorgeous nymph. A kid, waiting to explode in orgasms. A soon-to-be woman that eats herself on hope. She believes in white horses that save. A young fox willing to try wet decadence. A stone waiting to be carved into whatever you choose. She has only played in the mud with harmless cubs, but she also has the eyes of a falcon and can spot a lie like a clock.
She has the sweet freedom of curiosity. A princess, a queen on the making.

It is not an easy choice for a weakened man.

I can only allow myself a weary sigh, and hope chaos is on my side.