where i'm from (poem)

I am from the outskirts of a certain city,

from a village where farming is still the key

where the people are down-to-earth,

and their love for nature is so mighty,

as it gifts them with a blessed beauty

of cherry blossoms every time springtime comes.

I am from a house with a small garden

whose beauty is like a haven.

This haven, I claim my own

for I have once grown up with it.

I’m from the essence of beauty that my haven shows me.

It teaches me how to see the world,

through the multi wonders of the beloved nature.

I come from the petals of a starfruit blossom

from the drops of rainfall on a thumb-sized leaf.

I see life through the fragile wings of a dragonfly,

through a butterfly’s mesmerizing colors.

I am born from the sound of a brittle leaf

every time it touches the ground,

from the gentle sound a grasshopper makes

every time it hops around.

I am from a home of unspoken love,

from the worrying look in my mother’s eyes

when I do something blindly bad.

I am from every sadness that my father endures

every time something unpleasant occurs.

I’m in the smile of my older sister

when she does something that makes us proud of her.

I’m in the naivety of the fight I have with another child

every time they try to speak ill of my family.

I am also from a home of some dismay,

from zoning out every time my parents shout.

I am from the distress that they create

that makes their child cry their eyes out.

I’m also born with the mind of a stubborn child.

I wish to be disobeying what I hate.

I can’t stand the fate of being controlled,

being unvalued for what I create.

So I make myself a runaway,

fleeing to seek my own way.

I am from the place I think I’d love

for I can have all perks of my own being,

where I can do anything without the sting of disapproval.

I’m in the thoughts of creating them all,

in the drawn eyes I stick on the walls,

in the portraits of a woman with a worrying look

of a man with a mouth drawn crookedly.

I see myself in the bokeh of the photos I take

with a mistakenly incorrect proportion.

I’m from the confidence I cannot see in my own portraits

and the self-hatred I have in a loving way.

I am from the room of self-deception

in which I soon get crazy.

Being on my own doesn’t mean I am free

for I’ve always felt that "I’m not me".

I cannot feel my authenticity

even when I’m trying to be what I love.

Now I’m on the verge of losing me

as my mind is filled with intrusive thoughts.

I am not from the voices saying I’m no good,

that I can never know who I’ll truly be,

but I can do nothing save for self-deceiving,

fooling myself till I make it.