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Clara Oswin Mar 2014
Weak.
Weak is surrendering
To the alluring voice of chocolate
And devouring rice by the spoonful.
Weak.
Weak is.
Adipose dangling from your armpits
And jiggling thighs each step
Strong is
Perfection.
Inhaling ash and smoke while
The mortals simply gorge
Wispy arms and jutting ribs
Empty inside. Pills.
Strength is weakness.
Too weak to stand
Waking up from hunger pains
Blackened vision.
This is how you become perfect.
Mediocricy is my middle name
Clara Oswin Mar 2014
You looked up to bright blue skies
Cloudless, pristine
And ran away from it
Hiding in the darkness
Drowning out her voice
In *** and silent tears

Telling yourself: Don't think.
Don't feel. This isn't true
This isn't even real
Shut off images of an empty shell
Laying on the hospital cot
Skin frozen like wax

NO- Where just a few days ago
She was laughing as she told you
A story about when you were six
And believed everything she said
She was fighting past the cancer
Your mom is fine. It's all a lie.

Try to forget what you heard
This can't be real because the sun
Is bright and burning from an aqua sky
And you're screaming at it to stop
Because the color of death
Is not periwinkle

It's black and cold and dark
Lie ash, or your heart if you stop
So don't stop dont think dont be
Just look up at the sky until
The sun's embedded in your eyes
And focus on the blackness
Burning from heaven's center

— The End —