Journey

I remember being younger when the playground was in bloom, 

You told me that I had a choice to use just one; But whom? 

The slide was overcrowded and I could never get a ride, 

May this envy be contagious?

These naughts of mine that always rise come as dreams in cages?

I might recon that is so,

Yesterday as I sat down it started then to snow.

Four corners set each way, 
And I still sit in the box. 
The left could sin me, 
Right could win me, 
Front or back could block. 
I could become a famous tool, 
Or infamously triumph,