Sweet is the song in my heart,
That sings with angelic voices of
your beauty that makes my nights bright
That makes the sun rise in the morning

Translation:

I got high and thought my heart was singing,
I had *** dreams that you were in so naturally when
I woke up with morningwood, I helped myself to your picture
and wanked myeslf all morning.

i am from pastel purple easter eggs,
princess dresses covered in glitter
— the kind that gets itself everywhere, all over the floor as i spin around and around while singing along to the jonas brothers at the top of my lungs.

i am from that little yellow house on morningwood ( the only one with the triangle roof ) that we would leave to go to disney world, kentucky, georgia, the moon
— anywhere mom wanted.

i am from nana's spaghetti, splattered all over the offwhite velvet dress i got that christmas morning as i watch any and every disney movie while sat on my belly in front of the tv.

i am from crying at fireworks; the sound not the sight. running after butterfies in the backyard as the sun dips deeper in the suburban sky.

i am from the seemingly little things that some might consider childish. sure, they are, but these memories fill me with happiness.

dorothy was right. there is no place like home.