I am from messy floors filled with junk and books.
From a quiet place to think and write down thoughts,
From listing to a variety of music on the radio
And a comfortable place to escape from the world.
I am from home—where scattered pages each have their own story to tell.
I am from the feeling of annoyance and drama in the air.
From the yelling that fills my ears everyday,
From a place were many emotions have been shown
And the sound of computer keys clicking as I type out my feelings.
I am from false pictures on the wall that show a family that has no problems.
I am from half-asleep teenagers walking to the bus on chill mornings.
From Flowers blooming in the spring leading to a bright beautiful summer,
From children running around as they make new friends
And the smell of farm life everywhere.
I am from friends playing in the sparkling cold white snow.
I am from the cries of horror and distress as disaster strikes.
From the selfish souls that hide among the caring hearts,
From heroes that rush into danger to save others
And a place that mourns for complete strangers.
I am from a place that cares enough to travel to help others in the world.
I am from a family that fought for our freedom many times.
From a Native American loving grandma,
From a genius uncle who made bad choices
And a mother who loves to help others.
I am from a musical family.
I am from singing music all day long.
From spending time with my best friends,
From helping animals
And working to help others see God.
I am from a hazy future.
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