If it is true that I am everything that I have ever touched and held in my hands, then I must be the sunken in skin surrounding my dying mother's cheekbones
I must be the initial tear drops of heartbreak falling from my baby brothers eyes
If it is true that everything I have touched is a part of my soul,
I am the burgundy blood staining the white innocence of my bathroom floor
I am hot crack pipes laying on the kitchen table,
I am the drug money that never came soon enough to keep the electricity on
I am the cold, abandoned car sitting on Elm Street, housing two children that have never felt so alone while in the company of each other

The colors I wore most often as a child were black and blue, which is to say, I came from a household in which touch was always anticipated, but never wanted
I am the unwanted pity that is thrust upon me every time I say what I am composed of aloud
I am the tears that I refuse to let fall in public 
Regret is a feeling that even holy water can't wash away, believe me, I've tried.

Believing in God and going to church didn't cleanse me of these sins
Which is to say, I spent more time writing poetry about my dying mother than moments I spent with her
I masked my pain with metaphors and similes
I blamed my sarcastic tone on a bad sense of humor
When in all reality, I could not admit this truth without having to break down my walls

These words scribbled down on crumbled pieces of compositions wrote my story before I was even able to accept its existence
It has taken me 7 birthdays, 7 Halloweens, 7 Thanksgivings, 7 Christmas's, 6 Easters, and 6 years to realize that I am not at fault
I couldn't turn an abusive ex-convict into a loving step-father
My love, no matter how strong, couldn't cure the cancer deeply embedded in my mother's pancreas
The most difficult part is knowing that I can't always control what happens
I can only choose how I let my personal tragedies influence me

If it is true that I am everything that I have ever touched and held in my hands, then I must be the first flowers blooming from ash-coated soil
I am not the tragic outcome of a broken childhood
I have never considered myself damaged goods
I am heartbreakingly lucky
There is beauty in every catastrophe,
Believe me when I say that I have discovered it all