I'm from love,
Old, yet strong.
I'm from pleasure,
That feeling of happiness.
I'm from many tries,
And only one successful try.
I'm from tears,
From the sadness of failure.
I'm from a blooming flower.
Now I'm watching the flower wither.
I'm from pure and utter beauty.
Oh, how beauty creases from time to time.
I'm from hope,
From the wish that maybe nothing can change into something.
I'm from death,
The kind of death that brings life.
This poem is dedicated to my late sister who would have been my older sister if she wasn't part of a miscarriage.