I like to think when two roads diverged in a yellow wood
I took the one less traveled,
but instead, I feel as if I have
forged my way amidst the trees and debris
somewhere between them both.
While my peers state I am
trudging a path no man has gone before,
I don't necessarily believe that to be true.
In choosing to disregard order,
I have also chosen to gamble that I
may or may not sleep alone tonight...
I have tried befriending the voice of reason
but it is hard to listen to a language I don't understand.
So I guess when my feet grow stale
and this couch becomes all too familiar
I will sell the luxury of monotony
for a plane ticket to a new dream
and hope the reality of lonely soon will change.
If home is where the heart is
and mine is broken,
how do you stay warm under a cracked roof?
I'm not "living the dream" that they imagine;
I'm simply living,
hoping one day they coincide,
because having to choose between the two
would be like choosing between water