I am from hospitals,
From incubators and ventilators.
I am from an impatient mite who said ‘hello’ too soon,
From a mother who left my side briefly empty-armed and forever empty-hearted.
I am from a circus clown in a glass cage,
From gawkers and hypocrites gathered around, the beginning fate of a forever fool.

I am from cold hearts and loud mouths,
From dysfunction and conditional love.
I am from the house of life and the house of death,
From watching flowers bloom and watching black ghosts leave a stamp of regret on a blue corpse.
I am from Bible-thumpers and self-righteous pastors,
From “You’re going to burn in hell” and “God doesn’t love you”.

I am from fairies and fancies,
From the twinkling of fairy lights in a dim-lit doorway.
I am from the blood-soaked field where Arthur fought his last battle,
From Mochizuki Chiyome’s shurikens and Väinämöinen’s sorcery.
I am from children who never grew up,
From “Do you believe in fairies?” and “Take me to Neverland”.
I am from the bridge between reality and fantasy,
From two worlds I brush, but never quite touch.

In my life there are stories that fly about,
tales of regret and death.
Alighting on my shoulder is the tale of how my heart stopped beating,
drifting off to sleep, I wait for my heart to beat again.
I wait up at night and hope to be alive,
but, alas, I am from the heart that stopped before it began.

I am from Death and Fate’s cruel pen,
From a joke and a mistake on an ink-blotted page.
I am from worlds that go by and people who die,
from wishing and wondering if ever will come a day, when God will say, ‘go live again’.