The mirror ate you up,
Swallowed you whole.
The mirror defined you,
Consumed your soul.
It judged and criticised you,
With every stomach roar,
Tearing you up bit by bit,
Little by little, more and more.
Obsessed with thoughts,
There's nothing left anymore,
The mirror takes over,
'Til eating's but a chore.
The mirror broke,
You cry and you choke.
Crowding round a hospital bed,
Wondering what was going on inside your head.
Your feedback helps emilyheaden understand what's working
I'm a realist, I'm a romatic, I'm an indecisive piece of shit.
She is beautiful but she wont believe , Most times she wishes she couldnt breath. She is perfectly skinny but its not enough , Shes gave up food and trying to love.
"Just eat," you beg. Like it's that easy. As if I can take a mouthful. Without feeling queasy. Like an alcoholic to his liquor. Or a smoker to his smokes. I need emptiness in my gut.
This is no disorder. At least, it's not for me. It's knowing thin's a lock on happiness. And that Ana's the only key. Ana is eight glasses a day. And two or three green teas. Ana is skin and bones.
Run run. 'Til fat drips off. Never slow. Never stop. Starve starve. 'Til your hands shake. And your hair falls out. And your insides ache. Binge purge. 'Til your throat burns. And your teeth chip.
I stand to the mirror Fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat I stand on the scale Fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat Are you hungry. No, I'm fine. Fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat Wow you look skinny.
The feeling of being on edge constantly, Is getting to me, deep deep down. Pretending to smile on the surface, When within there is a frown.
December twenty second, Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Grit your teeth. Move your toes. Let your heart beat get louder. Feel the rush of blood between your veins.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.