Six years old,
I tripped and fell
into the rocks,
Let out a yell.
With bloody knees
and shiny eyes.
"Are you okay?"
I said, "I'm fine."
Did you believe me then?
Ten years old,
they called me names
like "fat" and "dumb,"
Left me in shame.
With tear stained cheeks
and proof I'm lying.
"Are you okay?"
I said, "I'm fine."
Did you believe me then?
Thirteen years old,
they shoved me down
and kicked me numb
without a sound.
With limping legs,
Bruises of mine.
"Are you okay?"
I said, "I'm fine."
Did you believe me then?
Sixteen years old,
I hated me.
With scars about,
Some you could see.
With silent screams
And deep, red lines.
"Are you okay?"
I said, "I'm fine.
"Did you believe me then?
Eighteen years old,
I'd given in.
Addictions made
My life a sin.
With one more dose,
Almost sublime.
"Are you okay?"
I said, "I'm fine."
Did you believe me then?
One pill,
Two pills,
Three pills,
Four,
Don't remember why, anymore.
Five pills,
Six pills,
Seven pills,
Eight,
Please, just take away this hate.
Can't remember how old,
I'm finally free,
a pool of my pills,
People crying over me.
With a pen and paper
next to my side.
In tear stained ink
it says "I never was fine."
But you always believed me.
