I am from closed doors and open arms I am from two worlds, a contrast I am from band-aids and nintendos switches From “What do ya need it for?” and “Why did you do it?” The smell of burning hair and peach grease The taste of sweet meats on my breath From mothballs and chocolate From a path leading to the maze of the fairie gardens Big boulders carved with far-off messages Longing for the tree that used to stand From the sounds of juke boxes staticky remains of Duke Ellington and Dorthy Blackwell
I am from the memories of yelling and making up And a box of ancient memories hidden deep within my scarves and toys The scars will be with me forever more I am stronger because I was torn