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.