There's a place I want to go,
Thought it was close now I don't know.
I think it's mine and then I find,
That someone's moved the finish line.
I pick my goal, they block the way.
I’m trying so hard but have no say
In where I go, when I'll arrive
Or let to even feel alive.
I chose a place, I had to pass.
I chose another… it didn't last.
It's not that I don't know where to go,
It's that I’m constantly being told No!
There's a reason the title is plural,
And that place is a Home, whether city or rural.
Though I chose, it's constant coarse corrections.
I’m forced to change ‘find Home’ to Destinations.
