Everything that is good in me
I have made from dust and scraps.
The cold shards of glass beneath my feet
I warmed between my hands.
I rolled the mess together until waste fell away
Then I sat down in the rubble awhile.
The hurt, the confusion, and the unbridled hate
All begged me to let them pile.
I gathered it all back up;
Every last bit of me.
I caressed it until it became something good
Something I am proud to be.
