Paths Not Tread
In the illuminating dark of our boulevard of bewildered choices, we find ourselves at a crossroads that doesn't actually intersect anything. It's so ironic, it's practically a skit.
Here lies a path strewn with the remnants of broken shoelaces and cryptic sidewalk poems—those paths we dare not tread, yet here we are, lost in the irony of all choices, like a sitcom character with plot armor but no plot.