Deep inside, and petrified,
Within my soul is cyanide,
Sitting, waiting patiently
For chances to escape from me.
For this reason it seems decent,
Fit to logic, moral reason,
That I keep my soul contained
And every single part arranged
Behind a face I've froze in place.
Dull of sense, of thought, of taste.
Trapped inside is where resides
My awful soul of cyanide.

I sip on my green tea
wishing for it to cleanse me.
Wishing for it, to cleanse out the oils and the misery I consume.
Wishing for it to break down my toxins.
Wishing for it ... to cleanse the sections of myself that even I cannot reach.

Green Tea

A substance that supposedly detoxes the belly, but not strong enough to detox the soul

Not strong enough to take away my shadows, my doubt, my ego or my woes.
A drink, not strong enough to hug my spirit at its loneliest hours.
Yet, I sip
.. praying the wet herbs that tickle my tongue shall unlock the gateway, or the path, or the door... to my soul.

So I sip...
And sip...
And sip...

Swallowing it’s brew...and my tears.

No more poems, thank you;
I think that I'm done.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

Please turn off the music;
My songs are all sung.
I think the night's over,
Although it's still young.

No more words, I beg you;
Just slice off my tongue!
They're just wasted air,
From a withering lung.

I've no more left to say;
Time to blot out the sun.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

I am sick.

My nose is stuffy
My throat is sore
Headaches & fever
Loss of hearing in my right ear

But there's more than that.

My stomach begs for food when I do not feel hungry.
I shiver and curl in on myself and say that it's alright.
Lies spill from my mouth like a waterfall.
This body is home to more darkness than this world has ever seen.
I am unsure how to ask my doctor why this is happening.
When asked before why my dress size went from an 18 to a 14 so quickly, I could not give an answer.

This is my last year of high school and I know what is safe to have.
How much orange juice to have without going over 100.
Where I can sit without my friends finding me.
Who to give my food to that won't ask questions.
Classes to miss because sometimes, it's too much.
I know who keeps an extra jacket all year round.
Which bathrooms are okay for shoving my fingers down my throat.

But I still don't know how to type a report on this illness and explain why I did not have any sources cited.
How to tell a teacher that the quotes are from me and other people that I had gotten tips from.
A group chat full of screaming teenagers who are all just dying to be thinner, to go down just one-two-seven more sizes.
Instagram accounts full of inspirational pictures and advice for the caption, occasionally posting a check of themselves.
Websites that have been deleted by now that I had spent hours looking at and writing rules from.

How am I supposed to tell a teacher that....
My report was so well written because I was my main source of information?
I can't look at foods and drinks without seeing numbers?
I can't look in a mirror without wanting to cry?
I view food as poison to my body?
I sleep in class so often because my body is lacking the nutrients it needs to keep going?
I have been like those screaming teenagers for years and as much as I say that I'm better, I will always be like them?

How do I explain to my teacher I'm slowly killing myself and I can't stop it?

At least my report was turned in on time. That's all that matters to them.