I come from a street, with boarded windows opposite my home. I come from shouting, late at night.
I come from tall green hedges, that are now discoloured and ruined. I come from a forest, that is now just log stumps.
I come from split up parents, that went their own way. I come from the opportunity to sleep, but choosing not to.
I come from the smell of petrol, cars speeding past. I come from music and earphones. I come from lies and unanswered questions.
I come from daydreaming. I come from looking at a phone, hoping to get a text from someone.
I come from a Namibian mother, who I love with my life. I come from the smell of roast dinners, now I come from the smell of frozen food.
I come from the view of mountains, hills and trees. I come from a town, filled with amazing scenery.
I come from a Scottish father, who does the most he can for me. I come from a hopeful family.
I come from a park, which was once loaded with kids. I come from parties, at the golf course.
I come from peace.
