The force pulling me home is stronger than
the pull of gravity at my feet.

Like the way
the negative side
is drawn to
the positive side
of a magnet;
No matter how many times
you pull them apart
No matter how far
you separate them,
eventually they're drawn
to each other again.

For years, I've told myself
I could do this on my own.
I would do this on my own.
Move half way across the world
And never blink.
But here I am, only an hour away,
and reaching the brink.
Surrounded by the creaking.

The creaking of the reel
on the fishing pole
that is my home.

I flail,
and I flail
as the tension grows harder to fight,
as the line becomes more tight.
Trying to resist
but the hook
digs deeper
in my cheek
and causes me to reach my peak,
Diminishing the belief that I wasn't weak.

And I release.

The strain becomes cooperation,
the pain becomes alleviation,
Oh, how mundane was this resignation.

Cause I know deep down
I don't want to fight it anymore.
I can't ignore
that you're only doing this
because you adore
the daughter who got a bit offshore.
You just want to measure
how much I've grown
And then toss me back
to find my own
but sometimes I'm scared to be alone.

The only reason
for my treason
revolves around the fact
that I don't think I'll go back.

The devil that you know
is better than the devil that you don't.
Stay in the boat and suffocate
never to swim again,
or be thrown back with the sharks,
where your future is up to fate.

"Life begins at the end
of your comfort zone,"
is what they taught me.
But it's the unknown
that continues to taunt me.

The thrill of never knowing what's next,
the longing for home that's given me a complex.
These are the effects
of writing your own checks
and facing shipwrecks
once you've moved on to the next
phase.

I'll have to accept that
gone are the easy days.
And there's all different ways
to get through the maze.
and no matter how far my mind strays,
a piece of my heart, it stays.
At home.