Like a vault locked down

I feel locked into a fate I cannot change. “But you can do whatever you want,” everyone says. False. Whether it was me, my choices, or just the way things worked out, I walk a set path. A red brick, decades-old path for a set time. And now the challenge is not to find a new one, but to learn to love the one I am on. And if you ask me, to acquire happiness in a predetermined situation is a harder thing to do than choosing which path to originally take. So surrounded by red heads, blond heads, black heads, my brown head is number 714839314; I look out at the open road hoping to find contentment walking in the shape of a man or girl or even dog. Something I can see and touch. What a waste of my hope though, right? Don’t worry all worried Christian evangelizers out there; I know that my hope is in the Lord. But just for one second, shut up, please, thank you.