I am from #2 pencils and Junie B. Jones books.
I am from the corner of the living room,
( bright, spacious).
I am from 107th street where you hear honking,
see fights and smell the trees because of (central park).
I am from chicken alfredo, hot sauce, popping from chicken cooking.
I am from Denetria and Milton.
I am from “NO.” and “don’t be home too late”.
I am from praying before eating on thanksgiving and bibles around the house.
I am from Brooklyn and manhattan .
I am from the bullet my dad took for my mom,
I am from the lost of my grandfathers.
I am from where we think nothing is real and somebody is always trying to play you.
Thats where I'm from...
  1. Katherine 1 year ago

    Zariya, this is a beautiful poem! Although I don’t know you, your writing gave me a vivid image of where you come from. I particularly loved your mentions of Junie B. Jones (I too was a fan) and the very impactful lines about the bullet your dad took for your mom and the loss of your grandfathers. I look forward to reading what you write next!

  2. Ethan 1 year ago

    i love this i love the part about your dad taking the bullet so brave

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