When I was thirteen,
I learned how to wear make up.
And how to wear my clothes.
And how to fit in.
When I was twelve,
I learned how to shrug things off.
And that people don't always mean what they say.
And that pretending is easy.
When I was ten,
I learned what the word fat really meant.
I learned that some people really care.
And others don't.
When I was eleven.
I learned what loss is.
I learned that money, has no value,
When nobody has hope.
When I was three,
I learned how to walk.
And to talk.
And to smile.
When I was fourteen,
I learned how to walk,
And how to talk.
And how to fake a smile.
I learned how to wear make up.
And how to wear my clothes.
And how to fit in.
When I was twelve,
I learned how to shrug things off.
And that people don't always mean what they say.
And that pretending is easy.
When I was ten,
I learned what the word fat really meant.
I learned that some people really care.
And others don't.
When I was eleven.
I learned what loss is.
I learned that money, has no value,
When nobody has hope.
When I was three,
I learned how to walk.
And to talk.
And to smile.
When I was fourteen,
I learned how to walk,
And how to talk.
And how to fake a smile.
