I’m from crowds where you move it

or lose it. A ever

evolving apple in need

of melatonin. An

empire with a ego

as brilliant as its

glaring glow at night.

I’m from the hand-me-downs of

my sister. From routines of

superstitions. From parents

who don’t cut corners to

siblings that can

effortlessly go from

cloud nine to resentment

I’m from the sharp hint

of pastries in

the packed bakery.

From the scent of mingled

cultures from each vendor

within the walls of

the piercing concrete jungle.

I’m from reminders

of car alarms blaring

at night. From memories

of beaming, blazing,

brilliant night lights on a

metropolis that never sleeps.