O N E M O R E

Chores. Sports. Grades.
College. Job. Home.
Marriage. Kids.
Always one more thing.

Where's the line that says I'm enough?

I'm alone on this highway called life,
with your expectations serving as the GPS.
There's a right path and a left path,
and both lead to the same destination:
yet mine is wrong.

You chide me about decisions I make.
You chide me about the decisions I don't.
You silence my voice then ask why I cry.
You say I need independence.
You say I'm cutting you out of my life.
You say you are safe, but inflict the deepest pain.

How can a broken clock be right at least twice a day,
yet I am wrong all twenty-four hours?

My mind is fractured, split in two.
But I guess you shaped me that way.