I am a third culture kid.
Of that I will never be rid.
I’ve grown up among worlds,
Like many other boys and girls.
I am made up of one travelling heart,
Which is often spread worlds apart.
I am internationally grown,
But I have a hard time defining home.
I am made up of many places,
Like a dice of six faces.
The places I’ve lived and loved,
And those that run through my blood;
Each of them is a part of me,
Part of my story and my journey.
Much of it is yet to be told,
But to one thing I will always hold:
I’m an adult third culture kid,
Of that I never wish to be rid.