I Am From

I am from a world of black and white, contrasts of sepias and azures floating across my eyelids, as I drift through a river of melodies and rythyms...
I am from tears that run down in little streams; trailing liquid depression, like wet wings that won't fly...
I am from white feathers of the cumulus clouds, bright and stark that lift me from my problems, and dare me to dream.
I am from hot grass under my feet, crunchy from lack of rain, and trod on from the many footsteps that push downward...
I am from a silent mouth that does not speak around those I do not trust, and lightening lips from the ones who have broke through my bricks; layer by layer, stuck together from the mortar of 'never tell'
I am from the dusty pages, filled with words that jump off the page, like little soldiers, acting out a new place, a new life, a new view;
I am from the chemicals that guarentee to make the user 'happy', and drowsy eyes, empty and ignoring my attempts to help.
I am also from the many battles between the enemy, coated in soft pastels of pink and peach, white, and baby blue, and myself...
I am from the pencil and pen, spilling a garden of words, MY words, that may confuse, but underneath mean a rainbow of truths...
I am from victories in all sorts, winning against realizations and sleepy mobilizations, feigning ignorance.
I am from a halo of memories never forgotten, and hopes of futures that surpass what I dream of; lessons of quiet redundance and the graves of things I know arent true any longer.
I am from reasons to never quit at anything, a cornacopoeia of beliefs and hopes that no one can put out, no matter what.