I am from number two pencils and notebook paper,
from sketchbooks with old drawings
and photos from long ago that are crumpled and torn,
I am from novels about love and death,
with pain and suffering folded neatly between each books pages.
I am from Ipod's and stereos, who have played away
my fears, my pain, and my tears ,and eventually created a new me for myself to be proud of.
I am from the weeping willow, within my dreams,
where I sit off and stare into the far distant reaches of the world and beyond wishing on each and every shooting star at Dawn.
I am from the sweet taste of fudge brownies and the aroma's of sugar cookies,
to a Forrest with a fire that crackles and purrs softly.
I am from the hot dessert with white powdered sand dunes,
and the vibrant green mountains that hover mystically over them.
I am from the memories of the Oregon and North Carolina Beaches,
with waves that gently crash upon the sand,
bringing treasures of the heart to human hands.
I am from school's and sto