On the way down,
he remembered he'd left his bed unmade,
and a ***** coffee cup in the sink basin,
and hadn't finished the book he was reading
and would never know how it ends.

On the way down,
he pictured himself with his corkscrew curls,
and his sun-kissed skin,
and his gentle brown eyes only to be remembered
by the photographs on the mantelpiece downstairs.

On the way down,
he thought about the girl he loved,
and the moment she told him
that she did not love him back
and he would never have the chance to change her mind.

On the way down,
there was the sudden realisation that he was
falling
and he did not have time to ponder
any more.

The feel of your lips pressed against mine
so amazing, so divine.
I never want this kiss to end
so hold me forever my sweet Kaitlin.

We blame society for everything.
We fault magazines for turning innocent teenage girls
Into anorexic beauty queens.
We point fingers at the paper thin actresses on TV screens
For bringing bulimia victims to their knees,
******* down their throat as they cough up that last bit dinner,
Along with the guilt and shame that comes with it.
We blame society, but we are society.
Who wrote those magazines?
Who created the ridiculous standard that you can only fit in
If your bones are showing through your skin?
Hunger is just a feeling; thin is a skill.
Your stomach isn’t growling because you’re starving.
No! It’s applauding you on a job well done,
On another day of nothing but celery sticks and diet coke.
Who cares if all of your hair falls out?
Who cares if you get dizzy every time you stand?
Who cares if the desire to be thin and meet this sick standard of beauty
Is slowly killing you, taking another piece of that innocent teenage girl
And turning her into a skeleton?
We, as a society, don’t care.
The magazines won’t stop printing
Because another high school kid got carried away.
Extreme, even deadly diets are a thing of today,
And yes, yes, they’re here to stay.
Sometimes eating healthy and exercising just aren’t enough.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,
And under this kind of pressure,
It’s hard not to give in.

I am waiting for the impossible to happen.
And I am searching for something invisible.
But that does not mean my dreams are unreachable,
or unattainable.
It only means that I am dreaming big.
And in this world, that is all we can do...
Dream.

(m.a.)