construing sentences

lies

your mom would always tell you how pretty she thinks you were. she'd always repeat how you had the prettiest eyes and how they shined so bright. no one else would ever think you're not pretty; that's what she made you believe.

you were first grade then, you didn't know any better.

your teacher would compliment you on how smart you were. she'd say you were one of the best students she's had. you would never fail; that's what she made you believe.

you were fourth grade then, you didn't know any better.

a close friend of yours would swear that she'd always support you, whether good or bad things happened. you'll always have someone to stand by you; that's what she made you believe.

you were seventh grade then, you didn't know any better.

people would comment on how you looked fine, but there was just something you needed to lose. you needed to be thin to be pretty again; that's what they made you believe.

you were ninth grade then, you didn't know any better.

a boy from your class would tell you how much he liked you, how other people don't matter. he would promise how he wouldn't ever leave you; that's what he made you believe.

you were eleventh grade then, you didn't know any better.

so now, you stand in front of a mirror, admiring how much you've changed.

the bruises, the evident outline of your body, the expression of pure pain and amazement mixed into one.

was it because you were too blind to see through all their lies that you've become like this?

you cried yourself to sleep then, you knew better.