She Told Me

She always told me life was hard.

She always told me it's not fair.

She always told me i was strong.

But what she did not tell me is that when you lose,

you lose it all.

She did not tell me I would come home from school to find out my father was gone.

She told me he would always watch over me.

She told me he was in a better place.

She told me kids were mean.

She told me they didn't mean it.

She told me I was strong.

But she did not tell me how deep their words would cut.

On the bus, "Fat Ass!"

In the hallways "Ugly Bitch!"

Walking home "Fat Whore!"

She told me not to listen.

She told me it would end.

She always told me she loved me.

She always told me she'd be there for me.

She always told me i was strong.

But she didn't tell me that one morning I'd wake up to sad eyes and streams of tears.

She didn't tell me that one day I'd wake up an orphan.

She didn't tell me one could feel such heartache at such a young age.

She didn't tell me that I'd stay up late into the night with tear stained pillows,

straining to hear her voice amid the deafening sound of silence.

She didn't tell me I wouldn't be able to hear.

She used to tell me life was hard.

She used to tell me it wasn't fair.

She used to tell me I was strong.

But I'll always remember she told me she loved me.