About Me.

I am from a Popsicle stick house held together by tape.
I am from a made up god and preached lies.
I am from a terribly timid mother
and the sperm of a father who blisters with anger and regret.
I am from someone else's childhood;
their light attempts to shine through my skin.
I am from bias opinions and degrading words.
I am from tiffs and toughs and fury flying.
I am from darkness and loneliness and empty classrooms.
I am from girls who share my mind.
I am from scissors that bleed red droplets.
I am from too many cheezits and a stomach that forgot its voice.
I am from new love and piece of mind,
from awkward and acceptance
and a feeling so overwhelming it slapped me as confusing.
I am from a hope I cling to like a star falling up.
I am from a joy that sings like a butterfly's wings,
wings that shed pureness as the flutter into the wide open universe,
and tread upon your controversial nature.
I am from bright rooms with dark corners.
Leaves rustling and racing across dead grass.
Movement that carries wind in strong blows.
Color often paired with black.
Filter static radio.
White noise and soothing violin quartets.
Innocence and morbid hate.
Love and corruption.
Black and white.
Grey evaporation.