Mez's "Decisions" is a tiny poem with a sharp point: worrying about a choice can cost you more than the choice itself. The speaker does a kind of quick arithmetic. Every second spent debating is a second taken away from actually living with whatever comes next. And if the decision turns out to be the wrong one, that lost time stings even more, because there would have been less of it left to deal with the fallout.
The tone is dry, almost matter-of-fact, but there's an anxious edge underneath. The speaker seems caught between wanting to choose well and knowing that the effort of choosing well is itself a cost. The sentence breaks across the stanza, with "to live" hanging at the end of the first part, and the "if I chose wrong" tacked on at the close, which gives the ending a small, uneasy drop. The mood is tense, a little wry, and very relatable for anyone who has ever frozen over a choice.