Cross Xing

There's a  bird on my hand
an inky flower as well
and I focus on them as my stomach drops
and tears burn
While the toe of my boot digs into the snow
wondering why
if you don't like me
then why do you hang out with me
I hear you as you two rant about me
below my feet
there's a crossroad for me
Two signs pointing in opposite directions
and I like neither.