I'm getting better
I'm learning how to eat again
The weights are still in my closet,
and I binged again

I promise you
I'm gonna stop
I'm not gonna die
But I think I'll go purge

I swear I'm fine
I'm telling you, I ate
Don't believe me, whatever
But I truly am gaining weight

Okay, so maybe I lied
I don't want to stop
I want to be pretty and thin
And even perfect

You caught me with a blade
Pressed against my stomach
Drawing blood
You told me Jesus loves me
And world war 3 would stop
If I'd just call out on him

You told me that wouldn't make life easier
But it would help me live
A happy healthy life
But I can't give it up
My attempts at grasping for control

My shirt had blood on it
You watched me clean off the blood
You sighed, and reminded me
That I was worth something
Of course, I didn't hear you

I'm worrying now
That you'll tell my mom
That I'll get shipped off some place
Where they keep sharp things away
My blade has dulled
And so has the pain
I swear, I'll stop
I just needed to feel better

Lies in a bath tub,
filled to the brink.
He has tried to go under,
He has tried to sink.

He maneuvers his fingers slowly,
To the edge of the blade.
His goal is to only,
Make the memories fade.

But not much will change,
The more he will suffer.
Lets try again?
One cut after another.

Warm blooded,
The water turns red.
He is still alive,
He is not dead.

His hope is religion,
His strength he must trust.
Take all the bad memories,
Turn then to dust...

she said,
"don't grow up,"
and i replied,
"my darling,
it's a bit too late for that.
the fun and games
have ended.
the curtains
are closing.
the adrenaline
is fading.
the smiles
are dying.
the hearts
are breaking.
and i feel
i have lived
a thousand lifetimes,
each one lacking
a childhood."

(a.m.)

I told you

just the other day

that I wanted to be a movie star

if only I was pretty



you stared into my eyes

and asked if my mirror was broken

'cause I looked straight off the runway stunning

I rolled my eyes

and said stop with the lies

I just want to be pretty



A few days later

I wanted to be a model

goodbye food,

hello gym

I said I could do it if I was pretty



you slapped me so hard

trying to bring me back to reality

but it was too late

she was already controlling me



Two weeks later

I'm told I'm gonna die

if I keep this up

but I want to become a singer

and a dancer

so back to the bathroom

goodbye binge



You took me to the ER

where people stopped and stared

at the girl who would do anything

to believe she's pretty

this is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to try and love you like i did.

dear whateverthefuckyournameis,

i apologize in advance for spilling my boiled blood on the hem of your skirt. what you need to understand, is that you are standing on ground previously reserved for my feet, so forgive me for any bitterness that seeps through the cracks in my clenched fists. i don't hate you, but i can't be your friend. you probably don't know about me, and if you do, let me commend your bravery. i have a tendency to set my problems on fire, and in my bouts of anger everything looks flammable, especially girls with paper complexions. i'm sorry. i have never been one to walk away, so i don't know how to explain to you the holes in the bottoms of my shoes. but i have been further than you will ever go. this is not supposed to be an angry letter, but lately that's the only thing coming out of me. i don't even know your name but the thought of your hands reaching for him makes we want to break them. i will douse your dreams in gasoline and strike the match against your cheek. but i know that's not right, see, the poison crawling out from the end of my pen belongs to a scarier version of myself i try not to know. my heartache is an insatiable war cry in the dead of night, that will stop at nothing to shatter all your windows. it shames me to admit that i've found a sort of twisted satisfaction in using passive aggression to breach your armor. i am sick with missing a set of arms i was not privileged enough to know. i speak with all the grace of an atom bomb and wonder about the rubble at my feet. you are white picket fence and i am barbed wire. some girls are lions, some are lambs, and i learned to love, teeth bared and snarling. one of the only things that keeps me going is the hope that one day i'll learn how to love something without making it bleed. i may have never been his, but for a time he was mine, so please understand why i taste acid when i think about your mouth on his. again, i am sorry. i know it is not my place to be so full of resentment, but there is a part of me that sincerely hopes it bothers you to know he dreamt of me before you were even a thought. there is a side of me that thrives on the image of the color being drained from your face when you read this. but i am trying to learn how to be softer. this letter is the manifestation of a self-inflicted war that has been raging in my chest since he first told me about you. you will try to be good to him, and you might even succeed. if you ever find yourself singing him to sleep, like i did, don't ask if he wants to hear another song, just keep going until his breathing slows.

- m.f.

but not the crying kind of sad
the kind of laying in bed sad
where minutes turn into hours
and hours turn into days
that i haven't gotten out of bed
because there's no point
and no purpose
maybe in a different world
i'd be getting out of bed for you
but because of mistakes
and bad decisions
and calling it quits
far too early
im here
laying in bed
alone
and im sorry

I should have known it wouldn't last,

And alas, our time has passed,

I was good and submissive,

But you were dismissive,

And I don't know what I can do.



You liked me, adored me,

You though I was sweet.

But today, you called me,

And said you could see,

We were not meant to be,

Because of what we believe.



I know I'm so young,

And sweet, and naive,

I know it's crazy,

But I believe,

That age doesn't matter,

not to me.



But I guess I should see,

Only friends we will be,

But these Tim Eyes will always remain.