From Water and From Paper

 I come from water,  

from being fluid.

I come from wanting the whole ocean,

and from having to settle for a single raindrop.

I come from an island,

nowhere special,

just a rock in the sea 

with little piles of memories, like sandcastles

sitting on the shore.

I come from angry sleepless nights,

from not knowing quite what I want,

from tossing and turning,

and from first day anxiety.

I come from quarantine,

from a virus that took away my fifth-grade year

But I didn’t mind so much after a while

There weren’t too many others like me anyway.

Most of all, I come from blank paper, my best friend.

When All the others sleep he listens,

And when I am quiet he talks.