Where I am From, Why I Write

I am from the stars of red

that streak across the flag

And I am from the crimson stripes

that ran down the King's back.

I am from the dirt and mold-

the beginning of the end.

The bite of fruit that did unfold

a world of war and sin.

I am from the stars of white 

sewn into the royal blue.

And I am from the men who fought 

and marched into the night.

I am from the song of hope

passed through the hero's lips.

And I am from the final breath

that did cry: It is finished.

And so I offer this bleeding heart-

my source of thought and rhyme,

To you dear reader to see and judge

if I may be worth your time.

My words from these lips,

The work of these hands,

Are all for my love of a King

And American land.