For the first time
In a long time
I step foot through the door.

To the exercise class I did so much before.

The room covered in mirrors,
Used to induce my greatest fears.

But now, things are different.

I look in the mirror, don't love what I see.
But know for a fact that super thin isn't me.

Just before the class is about to start,
A sight entering the room makes my eyes dart

The sight of a girl, thin as a rail, frail, ailing.

To others she may look thin,
But I'm able to see the disorder within.

It brings to mind a different kind of mirror.
How I used to look, sick and scared.

My heart cries for her because I know the pain
What it feels like to believe you deserve to wane

Our society glorifies fullness in bank accounts and objects,
Yet objectifies thinness, imperfections are faults.

Yet another emotion emerges from me,
I'm glad I'm no longer sick like her,

Will she seek recovery?

I dream of you every moment of every day.
I think of you when I look in the mirror and I think of your arms around my waist.
I miss you with every breath I draw and I miss us with every breath that leaves my body.
I remember your smooth voice the second I wake up and its the last thing I hear when I fall asleep.
You are all I can think about.
The perfect drug within the perfect woman.

War is at our door,
Souls lay dead on the concrete floor,
And the rich still live,

War is at our feet,
Souls die, their life incomplete,
And the rich are saved,

War is in their hands,
Souls fall down in foreign lands,
And the rich? They fly,

War is not the way.

Thanks guys.
I dont know what determines making the daily poem.
but its the first time for me, and Ive been here awhile.
In the end, Im just happy to find people around who still appreciate poetry and take the time to read mine. Much appreciation, keep the purest expression of emotion alive!

someone once told me
the sweet bird of youth
would last forever

and I guess she meant it,
in a puzzled kind of way,
you see.

just like a pretty flower needs
to be watered and loved to grow,
the sweet bird of youth needs
constant spring
and warm winds
if it's meant to last... forever.

In a dream I was walking, all alone.
A flower; I saw-

                             off in the distance..

it was all alone, like me.