I’m from a big city into a little town,

There were gas stations at every corner you turned. 

There were sometimes wonderful flowers to smell.

White ones, Pink ones, and sometime yellow.

But they were all beautiful.

And soft.

Sometimes on yards or sidewalks.

 

I’m from a city where my sisters and I left,

Where the only sounds were the news,

Sirens, or news about what happened.

I saw a lot of fights go down there,

Some gangs, and a lot of deals being made.

 

I’m from a town where I live now,

Where I can play without being stereotyped,

Mainly because of how we dressed when we were little.

Being able to feel the warm grass on a summer afternoon, 

Or being able to feel the warmth of a hot cocoa mug in my hands in the winter.

 

I’m from a family that I can call without looking crazy,

For not being asked why I move so many times.

And having my mothers home cooking when I was a little kid,

Her delicious pecan pie on Thanksgiving,

Or her Chicken Soup when I was sick.

Wondering what life was and wondering,

“Why was my life the way it was?”

Or

“Why was my families that I had temporary?”

 

I’m from a “broken family”

Which is what some people call it,

But I don’t think it’s broken.

I think I have a perfect family in my mind.

Where I’m from, with foster care,

I relize that I don’t have to have both mom and dad,

I relize that I don’t need the newest thing.

My mother adopted my sisters and I,

Not because of symapthy,

But because she loved each and every one of us.

 

I’m from a family that taught me a lot of things,

Like how to cook and clean.

My mom taught my sister and I that we are worthy.

Not because of the stuff that we had or have,

But because we know things that other kids might not.

 

I’m remeber the times where we didn’t have a lot of food in my old home,

Or when we had to go home from school because of sanitary problems.

And now that I lived a “good life”,

It’s harder to remember those times.

 

Where I’m from, people love you for who you are,

From all walks of life.

My mother loves a friend of mine, even though he’s transgender.

My grandfather loves my little sister, even though he doesn’t understand her sexuality.

My cousin loves me and my sisters even though she’s four and doesnt understand somethings,

And my grandmother loves me, quirkiness and all.