I am from the green of corn fields and the white of cotton,/ From chasing rude chickens and cousins,/ I am from a warm lap and a warmer smile of my grandfather's,/ From early morning rides and games,/ I am from house parties and the backyard hose,/ From homemade cookies and imaginary friends that never retire,/ I am from loud squeaky noises that frustrate my dad,/ From the crying of the creature at night/ Childhood memories would always stay/ Reliving them is only a book away// I am from crushes and broken hearts,/ From rotten cookies and blueberry muffins,/ I am from clues and gossip,/ From wizards and demon-slaying shadowhunters,/ I am from icy cold skin of a man lying in a box,/ From the lies and tears of my family,/ I am from screams and roars,/ From "I'm sorry" to "I love you"// I am from thrilling coasters and wheels,/ From cotton candy and sticky fingers,/ I am from Backstreet and Serenade,/ From brain freezes and numb fingers,/ I am from closing my door shut and shielding my heart,/ From the glass in Idris to the clock tower in Italy,/ I am from karma where the wrong are punished and the right are rewarded//
Now that the book has been dug out and the chapters have been read,/ I can wipe off all the dust and the tears that were shed,/ The past has been written and the pen is in my hand,/ I'm now writing my own story,/ Let the ending be unplanned//