I am from.

I am from the wind.
---
As the wind blows and comes and goes
As it is felt and heard but not seen
Such is the uncertain life I live
The seventeen years I've been
---
Yet in the same kind of way the wind could not describe me
So immobile and stagnant
At the place I am expected to call home
---
The place these seventeen years have lived
The place I was born and raised
It changes but it has never changed
The inside changes colour at times
The outside grew up as i did
From green grass and a swingset
To outdoor lounge chairs and cold grey cement
From a great big siberian husky
To a noisy old cat
---
Seventeen years changed at times
But seventeen years always stayed the same
Same town
Same street
Same house and same bedroom
I am living my own memories
My own window like a picture frame
Of my childhood and my present days
---
The wind in my life is the storm in my soul
The cause for unrest within
---
I am uncomfortably comfortable
I am used to my life
And I don't want to be
---
To belong is a paradise felt only in my dreams
Dreams that are blowing through my heart and whistling through my ears
---
I don't know where I am from
Though I know where I've been
And I know where I long to be
I long to be as the wind
Blowing loud and free through this dry and dusty land
---
And when the wind of my soul blows dry in this life
The rest of me awaits apart from this world
Where already I belong.