Where im fromI am from sunscreen.From daddy's boots and arm casts.I am from towering doorways.Dirty brown with wear and tear.I am from oak tree.The sunflower,Whose sun kissed pedals I remember as if they were my ownI am from charismas stories.And carving pumpkins.From hand my downs and laughter.I am singing songs and messy hair.I am from quiet down and good night angle.And butterfly kisses.I am from joke telling.I am from an island and Irish roots.Tea and pasty.From the ginger jean.In a leather bound book.Filled with photos and dried up flowers.Is where my memories lie, untouched by age, unlike myself.
LOVE KNOWS NO AGESitting in a wooden circle, friends from side to side, others whose names and faces I don't recall. Going through the usual recess conversations, boys, and most of all gossip, the usual lies are there, or course, but there was a new rumor rumbling in the pool a new kid, a boy to be exact, he was coming in about a week or two, at the time I couldn't really care less, he'd be just another one of those new kid, odd at first talking to everyone, then finding a group more to their liking and stuck to them, which for boys consisted of the jock boys, and the girls to the "plastics" . The week seemed to fly by, and the day was here, rumors about this boy had been passed around from person to person, at one point people said he was black, at another time he was short and really fat, then he was supposed to be really tan, then that day he was really here, and he wasn't any of those things. I remember his hair, longer then I've seen on a guy, down past his shoulders. A dirty blonde that somewhat
the cover girlMy coat of armorProtection from how i feel i seemAn ever changing mask,Day by day.Then I feel safeBeautifulFlawlessProbably my favorite part of myself.SafeSo sureI know I'd be lost,Without it,Being the cover girl.