when i was young
my mother told me
“pick yourself up”
“brush yourself off”
“get on your feet”
“you’ll go far”

mom wouldn’t lie
my mom wouldn’t lie

i picked myself up
i brushed myself off
i don’t think she likes
what’s under the dust

i remember she brought me
sliced apples and pears
reminded me my father would never
her cutting smile and laughter that brightens the room

to fear love
to love fear
to love hate

i love my best friend the way she hates me
i love myself the way she hates me
she hates the way i love her
i love the way she hates me

one stanza one smile
one line is one kiss
on the forehead with care
to dig her nails deep

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