I am from that salty bead of sweat that falls on the dusty ground.
I am from that innocent man who got framed.
I am from that whimpering child who has fear of the dark.
I am from those poor souls stuck inside with the flu while the other kids play in the snow.
I am from that small house with love and that big house with nothing but hate.
I am from the one that got away.
I am from that little prayer muttered on September 11
I am from those lawyers knocking on heaven’s door.
I am from world wide suicide.
I am from the impulse you give me to do it again.
I am from that nerdy four-eyes.
I am from that twisted contortionist.
I am not from rock, pop, jazz, alternative, blues, country, classical or rap; I’m from music.
I am from Asia, Australia, Europe, Africa and the Americas.
I am from hours of practice paying off on the day of victory.
I am from this poetry anthology as I nurtured it and gave it life.
Where I’m from
You don’t ever want to go.