there. I'm somewhere
in between.
Home is where
the heart is—
but my heart is
everywhere.
It's running around,
being stretched and
overused.
I'm being squeezed
into every bottle
I call a situation.
There is hardly
an ounce of
room for my precious
little feelings.
My foreseen path
isn't the official
one I'm sure—
but somethings
gotta give.
