The thing about privilege,
Is that it is not our fault,
Like our biological ***, our name, our lot in life,
It's handed to us the moment we're born,
Wired in DNA and red strings of fate,
Strings that form a safety net for one and a noose for the next.

It's our advantage,
Head starts while the rest have handicaps,
But this advantage against the disadvantaged,
It makes us lose our vantage point,
It's not our fault, it was handed to us on a gold platter,
And it's our job to make the changes,
That make the world fair.

Dealt the tattslotto number of existence,
Our road smoothed down,
The right race, the right gender,
Right religion, the right neighbourhood,
Things we didn't fight for and disregard,
Diss and say is too hard.

But the only race that should matter is the one of life,
And helping those who fell behind, forced behind,
And to help them cross the finish line,
I don't want to stand on the mountain top alone,
Join me up here, together with free flowing air,
And if you can't make it on your own,
It's our privilege to help you there.

I am here,
Voice railing against the edge.
I spread arms through air,
Fingers trail in open streams,
and I am here.

Green light filters,
Life spreads brightly,
Happy burns sharp and warm,
Laughter bubbles in my throat.

And the song bursts from my lungs,
Running through park and down busy road,
I am free, I am alive.
Today,
I am here.

I used to **** my stomach in,
Till my lungs would ache and split,
Then I learned to pull my muscles up,
And I'd find a better fit.

I learnt from magazines,
and TV shows,
The things that told us,
To always shrink, to never grow.

I learnt from my mother and my sister,
Who would sit and pinch their thighs,
With a sigh and a shriek,
About needing to go down a size.

I became obsessed,
But not with food, wine, or shopping,
My obsession was with the fat under my skin,
Growing fast and never stopping.

I became obsessed with numbers,
Numbers even though I hated math,
People telling me to stop, to eat,
The voices in my head would clash.

I feared that I would grow,
But also I would shrink,
Fingers trailing gaunt on skin,
My madness slipping from the brink.

I feared that I wouldn't wake up,
The next morning, the next week,
But I couldn't stop myself from finding,
The skinny I'd always seek.

I'm not fat, I know I'm not,
And I know weight does not define me,
But I see the bone, I strive to see it more,
Without bone what would I be?

How long has it been?
Four or five months now?
It feels like forever and nothing at the same time,
So go and take a bow.

I see pictures of your face,
Tear stained and smudged,
From fingertips gripping desperately,
My heart still holds a grudge.

Those pictures, your pictures,
My heart feels like it'll break,
Shards of ruined glass,
Shattered open in your wake.

Except you won't,
                                                    You
  ­                                                                 ­    w o n ' t

You'll stay sleeping,
Leaving our eyes weeping,
Allow the Grim Reapers reaping
And ignore the blood seeping-

Your life bloods flowing from your wrists now,
You're getting colder now,
I think of those photos now,
My heart breaks again.

Cheerful words from her heart did sprout,
And her soul ran far from sea to sea,
The pen her sword, pages a promise,
The room a sanctuary for the free.
Stagnant water is living at her touch,
The stars are bright and pure,
When ancient monsters rise from dust,
Her words are the golden cure.
But when the ink runs dry,
And the light reaches day,
Her room returns to just to just a room,
A different monster comes to prey.
It's sly and it slinks,
Its hide a black matted mesh,
It croons sweet rotting words to her,
And rips away her flesh.
Its teeth are black,
Its eyes are red,
Biting teeth are drenched in ****** foam,
Kicking and scratching inside her head.
It mocks her, ruins her,
Her breath catches in her throat,
Death, failure, forgotten, for all its names,
It was ****** she wrote.

I can feel the love,
fading from my heart,
or rather,
it's not fading,
it's being torn out.

Piece by piece,
people steal it,
when I would have given it,
when I had given it,
and then demand more,
as if I'm holding back.

But I'm not,
I'm loving with my whole heart,
loving them more than me,
loving their flaws and insecurities,
their hatred and inconstancy,
while I let my own drown me,
in their wake.

Everything hurts.
Days, weeks, months later,
It still hurts,
Constantly.

Years will pass,
The pain will turn,
From a sharp knife cutting edge,
To a dull thudding ache,
But it will always be there,
Constantly.

And I'll hear her name,
From time to time,
Because it's a common one,
And no one will know the pain,
Eating away inside,
Constantly.

Or that you used to see her,
Every night,
You're nightmares painting her death,
across the ceiling,
as you lay wide eyed and awake,
The old scar hurting,
Constantly.

You want to forget,
As cruel as that sounds,
You want to forget her,
That you loved her,
That you lost her,
That there was no goodbye,
Just the news,
That she hadn't loved this life any more,

That the pain in her heart was too much,
It ached and strained horribly,
That there was no escape from it,
And while she was alive,
It hurt her,
Constantly.