Lost little girl afraid of food
Lost little girl afraid of everything
Lost little girl afraid of herself
Afraid of getting
Beyond repair

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

Winner!
Winner!
Chicken dinner

The toilet says, "I'll make you thinner"

"Thinner"
The ever-present goal
The cause of raging jealousy
The trigger of self-harm
"Thinner"

"Thinner,"* it's all they hear

Ad after ad, person after person. "Thinner."

Whispers followed by whispers all on top of whispers become
Screaming
"Thinner."

"One pound," they tell you, "it's equivalent to acceptance," and
"the smaller the weight," you see, "the stronger the beauty."

"Look like her and maybe you'll be satisfied."
"Loose the weight, then you'll be free."

                                                                But
                                                      OH, MY DEAR
                                                      Let me tell you...
                                                     It's never enough.

I hear those lies that have been disguised as encouragement and the blasphemy pretending to be wise.
But please, listen; none of it's true.
This worlds' evil, it has you hypnotized.
You're beautiful. Stunning. * You.
Don't listen* to the voices shouting,
*"Thinner"

you think i don't know
         how much
         you want
             to be
            small
              thin
              (air)

oh, ­                   darling
but                     i do
i        want         you
(almost)          (nearly)
just as              much

              i
            want
            you
           with
           all the
           fibers
           of my
           bones

you                       say
you  want             to  
be        pretty  for me    
be                     skinny          
for me           strong
for                        me

i                        sa­w        
you  waste      away
from      flesh     to  
skin          to bones
to air         then no-
thing             at all

i want you to feel
ha-
ppy
but you aren't happy
till
you
aren't you anymore

i begged you to stop
but you               just
brushed           me  off
you were too far in
and              too far
gone           a hopeless
case               of sorts

Shrink yourself
Oh she's fading away
Hold her bones together
As the movies play

When a diet becomes an addiction
I felt myself give in
My mind was hooked on these
Skinny thoughts

Bones dance in my dreams
And I couldn't be shaken awake
Yes I'll be skinny like the others
Beautiful like I want

But there's nothing beautiful
About your hair falling out
And passing out and hitting your head
And freezing in the summer
And constantly falling asleep

There's nothing cute about
***** in your hair
And on your clothes
****** noses
And aching bones

Nothing glamorous behind that bathroom door
Just a stupid girl
With her head stuck half way down the pipes

Is it really a life, what you are living?
A slave to numbers and hate,
Turning your body into a machine,
A strange reflection of your turmoil
Tell me, is this really a life?

As you count your grapes into a bowl
Are you really feeling satisfied;
Or as you sit at home denying yourself
The pleasure of company,
Tell me, is this really a life?

Pounding feet matching the stutter
Of your heart, and the blood that
Runs sluggish in your skinny veins
As you run yourself into the ground;
Tell me, is this really a life?

Talking more to the voices inside
Your head than your old friends
Carving away at your skin;
Destroying what little of you is left
Tell me, is this really a life?

Or blindly chewing and swallowing,
Knowing you’ll hate yourself
But needing to feel, comfort is sought
In the numbness of food;
Tell me, is this really a life?

As the inevitable urge overtakes
When you’ve lost control:
You failed, you’re weak and now
As you bend over the toilet bowl
Tell me, is this really a life?

You never stop to think, well maybe
You dare not: you’re haunted
By the idea your time is wasted
So you are wasting yourself
Tell me, is this really a life?

*© Tara India