She was always careful, with the praises that she’d give.

If it wasn’t earned, it wasn’t said. What an ‘honest' way to live.

 

But honesty is brutal, for a fragile girl who’s only six.

Who needs a mom, and needs a dad, not a list of things to fix.

 

She’d tell me I was worthless, I wasn't pretty, smart, or deep

And now it’s all a memory, another secret that we keep.

 

Like all the games she played, with my vulnerable little brain,

“You’re too fat”,  “you’re too thin”, “my dear, you’ve gone insane”

 

She would tear me all apart, then she would turn it all around:

She “wasn’t angry”, she “wasn’t mean”, she’d “hardly made a sound”

 

She’d tell me that she hated me, and then sing me to sleep

And now it’s all a memory, another secret that we keep.

 

Like how she let Jade’s problem, become the saddest of addictions

then told her to be more like me, like some twisted competition

 

The two of them would fight, not just words but fists and all

I’d be up late, I couldn’t sleep, chaos seeping through the walls

 

I felt unworthy and so ashamed, convinced I was in too deep

So I wrote my note and slit my wrists, drifting off to sleep

 

And now it’s all a memory, another secret that we keep.