Eight.

I was eight.

You looked me straight into my eyes-- saying the words that would stick with me forever.

"I don't Love you Anymore."

I was eight--it hit me down to the core

of what brought my happiness--

After that-- I wasn't that princess I thought you praised,

 with pink and glitter everywhere.

I was a nobody-- I felt you nowhere.

I was a way from you- Taken.

I thought you were mistaken.

But that wasn't the truth you hid from me--

The truth was that you meant it.

I was 11 years old-- two years after reuniting with you--

I thought everything would be pink and glitter again but instead-- everything was blue.

No wonder I was so annoying to you.

I was a pest, a beast, a bitch you say.

I was unlike the child you dreamt of having one day.

I was 13.

You kicked me out- I ran way what ever the truth

let me get one thing straight.

You hate me- I hate you

So whatever the story we both know what is true.

Love isn't real between you and I.

Like you said- "I don't Love you."

but don't you dare say anymore.

Because we both know your lying- cause if you did.

We wouldn't be where we are today,

I am 17.

Nothing has changed.

People who know me- say I have good heart.

You say it is evil.

I know for one you are kept in the dark--

Of the real me.

Because I hide it from you- like how you don't see me cry.

I am eight.

And I still wonder why.

You said  "I love you." So many times.

I am eight.

And I am lost--

because I have no Mother-- to grieve for

especially with a mind so crossed.

I am eight.