“Mommy loves you,” she said to me

I was five years old and confused

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant because

five year old me didn’t know who mommy was

And five year old me was raised by grandma and grandpa

And five year old me didn’t know skeletons could speak

Skin and bones I could see right through you

That lie rolled of your tongue smoothly,

the way you type in a password that is the same for every account you have

It is more of a habit, like a routine you’ve been practicing for your whole life

and that statement is your performance that you just want an applause for

I am no longer 5 years old

Your act; overdone and I will no longer sit in the audience

I am done

because although mommy loved me,

mommy didn’t love me enough to choose me

Mommy didn’t love me enough to quit

Mommy didn’t love me enough.