They say home is where the heart is,

But what if you don't know where your heart is?

My heart is the center of a game of tug of war,

Struggling to land on one side of the border.

Do I want to stay here where I was raised or follow my roots?

My parents were lured in by the American Dream and exchanged their serene lives

For days that overflowed with stress and fatigue. Sooner than later,

They were programmed to the same routine and the traditions that were

Once important to them, had been replaced by the idea that money

Is the only way to survive. All for what? For me to have the opportunities they never had.

Society spreads rumors saying that succeeding is getting an education and making money.

I couldn't be prouder of all the hard work that's paid off.

I envision myself going to college, spending the rest of my life writing and working my way up higher positions in the newspaper business,

It all seems so perfect...or is that just what I tell myself?

Would I be seen as ungrateful for wanting nothing more than what my parents had?

I want to wake up to the birds' beautiful ballads,

To the soft breeze caressing my face,

To the fresh dirt after a rainy night.

I shouldn't have to see my grandmother's face fill with sorrow

Every time we leave her.

I guess the stars will one day whisper my future to me

And my heart will beat to wherever its home is.