I eat until my chest hurts
ignoring the fact my acidic heart  
wills, calls, shouts for me to stop (hurting)
myself

For I know once the sweet oozing gold runs down my throat and
calms the feelings of an anxiety disorder,
it will quickly strike to a halt
and evaporates as quickly as it came
turning gold to rust;
and comfort pain.


It leaves me more bruised, battered and empty
(this is high class gluttony)

than when I cut my fingers from unwrapping the packaging.

yet

the void remains unfilled
and I'm no longer happy

©Rebekah Lazarus 2014

I really like food.
When I'm sad, I eat.
When I'm happy, I eat.
When I'm lonely, I eat a lot.
When I'm bored, I eat.

Too bad I can't cook

I hate eating I honestly do.
It makes me fat, it's all the food.
It's my only friend, or enemy?
I eat it because it listens to me.
Is it that, or the fact that I eat my feelings out?
And now, I'm gaining weight. Pound by pound.
I disgust myself, and even my dad.
I'm such a failure, look I'm so fat.
My family repeating those words
"Are you eating again?"
Then I look at the food, and realize .
This is just the beginning.

if altitude
is determined by
attitude
I'm in my grave.

we try running away
when we can't even stand up

The steel blade makes a ****,
A deep slash.
Blood pours down the drain.
Am I pretty now?


I cover who I truly am.
I hide myself from the world.
I ask you...
Am I pretty now?


I have had my fair share of battle scars.
Heard words that stung like bees.
Each time we hear those words, we ask ourselves:
Is it true? What did I do?


You make us weak.
You break us down.
You make us think:
Am I really ugly now?


Look around,
Take a good look.
We hide from the world,
Because of your words.


You make us feel unwanted!
Like a disease that can be contracted!
What gave YOU the right,
To make us feel like this?


I never understood why,
People talk like this.
Have they got no heart?
Have the got no soul?





What makes them feel,
Like this is all right?
To make others suffer,
With no friends in sight?


What gives them the right,
To make fun of us?
They don’t know us.
They don’t know what we have been through.


The worst part is,
After you realize you’ve pushed too far.
They are gone,
And they are not coming back.


You mourn for their loss,
But why bother at all?
You are the one,
Who caused it all.


They might have grown up to be brilliant,
But they can’t.
They were robbed of that chance,
As soon as the first word left your mouth.


There is one word that describes you perfectly.
BULLY!
Your ruined their chances,
At a thing we call life.


It’s your fault.
They never did anything.
Why them?
What made you choose them?


It’s really disgusting.
What you did.
You know that,
Right?





How do you feel?
Proud? Happy? Accomplished?
Or do you feel ashamed?
Think about it.


YOU JUST MADE SOMEBODY
END THEIR OWN LIFE!


It’s all your fault they are gone.
So think to yourself,
‘What Have I done?’


I ask you...
Am I pretty now?

you are of broken pieces,
scattered all over.

you are of cuts and scars,
blood stained-blade is your friend.

you are of a mess,
hair all over your face, makeup ruined.

you are of darkness,
wishing to be one with the moon and stars.

you are of silence,
like a doll, oh so mute.

you are of strength,
holding yours tears in so others don't worry.

you are of loneliness,
confining all your deepest darkest secret within.

but you are you,
the guy or guy who held on,

despite all the harm you inflict yourself,
you're still here.

*and you should love yourself,
you are perfect just the way you are.