is there a more perfect self-torture than starting over again and again?
never staying in any one place long enough to make friends.
always one eye on the future looking for an escape,
hoping the next door opened will be that final place
where one can put down roots and be like every one else.
be normal, ordinary and never alone or by oneself,
surrounded by friends and family always there to keep you safe.
no need to want more from life, no need for dreams to chase.
to be blissful and so well kept no wonder all want to stay
for who could resist that sweet lie when draped in such a way.
so the wanderer goes in search of more leaving all ties behind
never knowing if the next place traveled will hold the ties that bind.