Pressing on

I stand here in the thick of it

Wondering how it got to be this way

Is it written on my forehead

And I cannot see it?

Is it a part of me, always will be

And I need to accept it?

How did it get to this point?

Who was the one directing the traffic?

I do not like standing here, right here

I am not meant to be in this place

I need to keep moving

Traveling to the places that free me

I am the one directing the traffic from now on

I will not accept what currently is

I will keep pressing on

Until I arrive at home