Where I’m From
I am a touch of magic from God’s daily projects.
I am the answer to the wishes of hopeful parents.
I am sculpted from clay and sent with the wind.
Slowly passing people who have once lived.
I am born to the smell of chlorine and green leaves.
A home for the wealthy but a niche for silent thieves.
I am from the twinkling lights, the graffitied walls.
The loud shrieking noises, of taxis and cars.
I am from a land they call free, yet there is so much violence.
Drowned with the sights and roar of harsh comments.
I am from the dance of tastebuds salvaging exotic flavors.
To the scars of a pencil on clean cut paper.
From the foggy window tainted by my handprint.
To the shoe marks on the snow.
I am from the memories left forgotten during lows.
Like the ancient tombs of the ancient kings,
left to perish with other forgotten things.
I am from the strength of iron but infused with gold.
A barricade against, what the future beholds.
I am a dreamer and that’s all I’ll ever be.
For in the sixteen years of life I’ve lived,
there’s still more I’d like to see.