Few poems feel as panicked as this one. The speaker is on the run, though from what is never made clear. The opening question, which road to take when both end in sorrow, sets up a trap: there is no good choice, only a choice between kinds of pain. From there the poem becomes a rush of sound. Single words like "Pounding," "Crashing," "Roaring" and "Screaming" sit between the speaker's thoughts, and they read like the noise itself breaking into their head.
The speaker feels hunted and exhausted. They half remember something they were meant to do, wonder if they should stop, then decide they can't, because stopping would let the noise "kill" them. The voices seem to be either real or inner ones, and the poem leaves that open. The speaker would rather risk their heart stopping than stay and listen. The final word, "Silence," is unsettling. It could mean relief, or it could mean something far darker, and the poem doesn't say which. That uncertainty leaves a tense, frightened mood.