Where is Home?

There are thousands of us, who make me up,

what I am, whatever that is.

Seems like my parents would be the closest,

But even they, don’t seem to know who they are,

but rather their parents, rather better.

 

Why am I looking backward to see who I am?

Like a girl in a row boat,

looking back but going forward.

 

I am unsure.

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