I wasn't looking for Ana—I had just seen her around

I didn't try to find her—it was me that was found

I wouldn't have guessed that we'd ever meet

But Ana's so clever—she just can't be beat

She'll crawl through a window when you close all the doors

And Ana, she's looking to settle a score

At first it was hard (controlling the greed)

But I've learned that Ana's the only friend I need

Free as a bird, light as a feather

I'm only happy if we are together

When the 'real' me started to show through my skin

people said, "you look so pretty, you look so thin"

No one realized I wasn't yet done

Cause Ana's work had only just begun

I realized I wasn't quite yet ideal

Life would be better if I skipped a few meals

As the scales dipped lower in my favor

I discovered 'skinny' was the tastiest flavor

Angles are corners, and corners can hide

Everything fat and twisted inside

When people started giving me looks

I smiled and said 'control' is all that it took

They shook heads, mouths curling down

I returned their disgust with a guarded frown

My friends tried to beg me to eat

But Ana just wouldn't let me cheat

Ana said eating was giving into fear

How could we stop when perfection was so near?

My parents told Ana was giving them a scare

But they didn't understand me so I didn't care

They told me Ana wasn't all that she seemed

But Ana had helped me achieve what I dreamed

Ana's the greatest and truest of friends

She promises that I'll be beautiful close to the end

It's Ana who holds my hair and lets me release

Whenever the urge to purge doesn't cease

Ana, oh Ana, so sneaky and wise:

"We're going to be friends until one of us dies"

I have to hide her away, people just don't approve

Ana's in my life and she can't be moved

Even if they tried, they couldn't take her away

Ana's in my heart and she's here to stay

People won't ever find in me what they seek

Because Ana has helped me perfect my technique

Then one day I felt more pain in body than in my heart

And I realized it was too late for me and Ana to be apart

Go ahead and befriend Ana if you dare

But reader, oh reader, please beware

You think that it's Ana who truly cares

But it's Ana who will haunt you everywhere

Once Ana gets a grip on you, she won't give you up

She'll just throw out your plate and empty your cup

"When people try to help, don't let them in"

See? With Ana, you can never win

After a while, she's gained all your trust

"lose more" she whispers, and you know that you must

For Ana's the master and you are the slave

She'll punish you sorely if you misbehave

It's too late by the time you realize the monster she's made

That's when you've already begun to fade

Please listen, dear reader—it's not the weight

It's not you—it's Ana that you truly hate

Ana's a wolf disguised as a sheep

But she'll stay by your side when death comes to reap

Ana and Mia are one in the same

Eventually it's your soul that they finally claim

I was fourteen when I paid the ultimate price

From taking dear Ana's 'helpful' advice

Never expected  
That life will become this must worst

only on these days I thought everything goes correct
But My fate shows me that I'm the unluckiest in the whole universe.

Still had hope
Not on me or on my fate
But on MY God rate

My papa has a pure heart
How the poisonous snake could inject purity
Purity  has its own strength..

Only on that day, Papa, you felt great for me
It is not that I Can shine in your absence
From my childhood days I thought of shining
only for You and for ama(mother)
Now it is the time for reaping
So you should come back soon.

Hope you will com soon..

dysphoria can be defined as a general unease or dissatisfaction, a discontent
but dysphoria
feels more like a disconnect
my heartbeat feels more like a defect
when it throbs against my shrinking ribcage I can feel that it's making a dent
dysphoria
comes from a greek root meaning "hard to bear"
it is hard to bear
****, it's hard to breathe
literally
physically
I cannot breathe
I cannot be free
dysphoria is when you have to close your eyes while you shower so you can't see
each breath shakes as it comes out of me
there is medical material clung so tightly to my body
it has become an extension of me
and nothing on me belongs to me
I am trapped beneath waves of what I can't stand to be
my body of water
feels more like an anchor
I am drowning
and you can tug at my spine but you cannot feel me
I cannot even feel me
I would do anything to make these ends meet
dysphoria grabs hastily
a current does not care your worth, it just pulls you under
dysphoria does not care if you deserve better
dysphoria is a disconnect
and I haven't found directions
to the end

And I think I'll call these the lost nights.

The nights where the silence is all consuming. Shapeshifting into black holes.

The only light at the end of this tunnel used to be the sound of your voice.

But now I'm stuck between the four walls of my mind that taunt me with the secrets they hold in the form of my memories.

The most prevalent one says that you'll never call.

So far it's been right. Sometimes I ignore it.. But nights like these, it ricochets like gunshots. Screaming to be more than heard..

Screaming to be felt.

And once again I'm reminded that I'd rather it be your voice that broke the silence instead of my memory of it.

I think I'll call these the lost nights.

But she’s my north and south and
east and west.
She’s that first spring day,
and last autumn night.
She’s sunset,
and dawn.
She’s the cool rain in a hot summer day,
and a warm sunray in the coldest winter morning.
She’s the petrichor and the breeze of the sea.
She’s the biggest expression of love.
She’s herself.
But again.
She’s not mine.

This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.