Dancers can't have eating disorders.
We are meant to be thin.
We are made this way
We are made to hide food
to starve
to throw it up
As long as no one sees us
As long as we can fake it
Cause as dancers
We have to fake it till we make it
And we aren't going to make
it if we are as fat as pigs.
People don't like watching hogs dance.
Don't worry the mirrors will tell us if we are the size of a stick or a stump.
So no I don't have an eating disorder
Dancers can't have those.
We are created this way.

{SM}

To the kid that no one sits with at lunch
To the kid that has no friends
To the kid that can't feel love
To the kid that forgot how to smile
To the kid whose parents say "why'd I have to have one like this?"

To the kid who has to inflict pain to know they're still alive
To the kid who's in an endless cycle of depression
To the kid who has funky colored hair
To the kid who has no hair
To the kid that gets battered and bruised for who they are

To the kid that yearns for attention they never get
To the kid that can't think straight
To the kid that isn't straight
To the kid that can't feel what life should be

Depression. That's all you feel
You can no longer tell what's fake and what's real
And the voices in your head-the real you is what they conceal
They tell you to pick up that knife
That's what'll make it better
So you bleed and you scream
and you plead and you try to deem
What's right and what's wrong
But in the end, is anything really....right?

Put down the knife and think back....
You're here for a reason
And no matter what that reason may be, you serve a purpose
If you think long enough, that image might start to surface
You're here for a reason...

it's rather terrifying
   how i can be ok one minute

then write a poem about you
  and want to pull the shard of mirror
     up my arm
       deep in my flesh
         and hope that the next life we may run into each other again

"who are you going to formal with?"
"i'm taking myself..."

She was only a kid, her
Sleeves always Rolled down
Its seems like a long time
Since her Dads been around

Moms drunk at her boyfriends,
showing up half the week
When she's home. she's always
screaming, her drunk Breath Reeks

She's afraid on the Pavement,
while she jogs down the street
With thugs selling crack on every
Corner, afraid who she'd meet

With all this Pain and Desolation
seem, to be on every side,
And her Life outta Control
Makes her wonder if she died

So she gets out the Razor Blade
and Rolls up a sleeve
And see's the map of her past
when the Hurt wouldn't Leave

The Blade Pierces the skin, And
the Red Snake proves she can bleed
Feeling the Pain is the only way
she knows she's Alive...

The Salvation she finds comes
from a Sharp Steel Knive
In this deep black whole,
its her only way to control

What a shame that its all
for this poor young Soul

Don't cry,
Don't eat,
Don't lie,
Don't die,
Be pretty,
Be natural,
Be social,
Be quiet,
Be yourself...




*But Not Like That.