How can you hold the very makings of disaster? How do you ease yourself in finding trouble to hold onto? You are gripping the hands that once fumbled for a tearing of skin, bore blood at the fingertips, greeted the brick wall with excitement and shattering my numbness along with it. What comfort do you seek in weaving your fingers with ones that tugged desperately on hair and swept away floodgates of water from tired eyes, proving to me I was weakened once again?
But I look down at the shaking documents of disaster when your embodiments of happiness reach for them and cover the wounds in an unhesitant embrace. And I know those previous questions don't matter; your infectious comfort of my hands rests in the palm and spreads.
My hand is now only holding your hand. Only. And that's the only thing it should now do.
Do you know what it's like To see hate in your own eyes As you stare into the mirror Or get a glimpse of your reflection That feeling you have inside Of how much you just want to die Your insides screaming As they continue starving All cause you hate how you look Mind shouting You're so **** fat You don't deserve a man Trying not to cry As these rude remarks Are shouted from your own mind You'll have to smile and laugh At just how **** fat you are Tell yourself you're not really hungry As you slap your belly Wishing it would vanish with each slap This fat I see This fat I have This fat I am This fat is me Even though I'm not even Just that Fat anymore Once you've been fat There is no going back As I stand and stare Observe & compare How much my body has changed My conclusion still is I am so fat I do not deserve a man I hate this view of who I am fat
Put down that pill bottle, put down that knife, It may take awhile, But you'll win this fight, It may be long but you'll be alright, The road is hard, but at the end, there's always a light for you to see, A light to guide you where you need to be,