Ants

we march left right left
unto what all we know
yet taking all that we can
left right left
steadily into the cliff
as if like a Que of ants
following the trail
the first one left for us
and at the top
there are no more trails to follow
but to choose jump or not
And yet there, so reluctant
or afraid to pick for us
For we hope some might
Choose what's good for us
But isn't it funny that
all preferred to jump
And yet you want them to pick?