If you ask me who I am
I will feel compelled to tell you
That my dad left me
when I was four.
I will tell you
That I was raped
And I will also tell you
That I’ve hooked up
With more guys than I could count on both hands
By the age of 15.
Funny how when we talk about
Who we are
We are so quick to mention the ugly
Parts of our lives.
But these things aren’t who I am.
Just things that shaped me into the person that I’ve become.
—  And I’m a damn good person
If who I am is what has happened
To me
I wish to rewrite my story.
The man who left cat like scratches
On my inner thighs
Does not deserve to have part of me.
The dark circles Under my eyes
Are just pigments of my pale skin.
Whether the reason is watching
My favorite show
Or listening to my dad abuse my mom
It doesn’t matter nonetheless.
I am here and I am surviving
Even when my world consistently
Falls apart.
—  I manage to put it back together alone