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Welcome to the century of diet pills and hospital bills;
Of diet coke and menthol smoke;
Of thigh gaps and what?

Of girls throwing a mask of bones over themselves;
Disguising themselves,
Hiding every inch of skin from prying eyes and lighthearted lies of 'you dont need to lose any weight;
but doesn't your sister look real good staring at her plate,
And your moms diet seems to have gone really good;
Tell me, does she even eat any food?'

So when I started shrinking I didn't know who to blame.
But right now in the body society rejects I can't find an inch of me that is not ashamed .

Of how my ideas of perfection have been poisoned from the minute I was born.

Growing up I've watched my sister evaporate,
Picking up habits at the dinner table
My eyes fixate;
On every mouthful she lets past her hungry lips.
Counting every glass of water, counting every sip.

Tell me why,
Why girls of our generation think worth is calculated in pounds and inches
Or why empty stomachs and shaking palms are somehow congratulated.
Why our collar bones turn into competitions nobody ever wins.

Welcome to the century of starving girls
Of pretty, starving girls.
Of pretty, dying girls.
This was my first shot at writing a slam poem or any poem at all really.
Ive struggled with Anorexia for over three years now and when going through treatment you finally see how not only the media but how your family have poisoned your expectations of what you are 'supposed' to look like.
That is basically what this poem is about.
Enjoy.
 Apr 2017 maledimiele
simo
we've all written what we can
hands tied and intuition bound by
people and things and always more things

giving all i can
just to be dealt even less than
i came with
leaving with less life than i arrived

weight pushing more than your elbows on your desk
more than the palms on your brows
the teeth grinding, closed shut eyed, a 'fine' suffices while still petrified

we wait and wait and wait for change
like a poor man on the street
begging to be set free
but the week ends and the day begins and we start again and again and again and we wait
and we stay still
stay stagnant
fight the urge to projectile *****
but we stay still in silence.

good habits can't be broken
just rewritten.
feel love-from indian lakes
 Apr 2017 maledimiele
Ola Radka
I placed
my dreams
up in the sky.

They fly
with birds
and take
my soul
up
high.

Where I feel
no pain
and all
the limitations
wane.

I let myself
feel free
and
be whoever
I want
to be.
We marched because
They told us we couldn’t march.
We loved because
They told us we couldn’t love.
We married because
They told us we couldn’t marry.
We ran for office because
They told us we couldn’t run.

Freedom is for everyone
Not just for the few.
If any group is left out
The word is not true.

We applied for jobs
When they said we could not
We applied for loans
But they tore up the applications.
We manned picket lines
When they said they’d **** us.
We put in for promotions
When they told us we wouldn't win.

Freedom being for everyone
Should not be a dream.
We should not have to explain
Why things aren’t as they seem.

We heard the words
That said Land of the free,
We heard the carols
Peace on earth to all men.
We read the Constitution
That we all of us were equal.
We remembered our schoolwork
That, segregated, taught these words.

Freedom is for everyone
Not just for the few.
If any group is left out
The word is not true.
You rip me at the seams,
And make me more tattered than before.
How dare you wear me down,
And not be punished.
And how dare you not give me a second chance,
And just toss me out.

Some people keep things, and renew them.
You kept me but only until i was no longer what you wanted.
You cut and tore, you bleached and stretched me.

You toss me out

But i sit here hoping someone picks me up
And makes me beautiful.
I hope someday someone will patch up my tears,
And dye all my stains my very favorite color.
I hope someday i keep somebody warm.
 Apr 2017 maledimiele
Hannah
She will cradle her own soul
within her hands,
and treasure her precious life ~
holding it tight.
She will not slip away,
like sand lost to the wind.
~ for anyone fighting suicide,
do not slip away ~
Like a wind that blows my sails
Or a smell that melts my mind
We drift like shells that crash in the waves as the ocean wails
The sun on my skin as a reminder,
With the warmth of a body near my side.
That electric shock given to me by the responder
Could never make my heart beat back to the pattern that hit so hard I would have to hide.
My hands in front of my face and I tell our time.
I only know a few words but I know how to call you mine.
No direct possession of that breeze I feel,
But in my skin I begin to heal.
A claim to love, a claim to see.
It's not a claim to own even though that's what the words read.
I can't own a sound or the wavelength you're on,
But how else can I learn to appreciate the love before it's gone?
The air is too strong and too free
To ever belong to a human like me.
With wings to pass my sails and carry my soul,
You could never be mine or make me whole.
There's more to be in our sky above,
The world will revolve around love.
I won't ask you to be mine.
I won't ask to be yours.
We have so much time
And have opened so many doors.
The ocean can drown me and the wind can drive me.
I love my journey, the sky behind me.
I can't make the Angel mine,
But the love of the world will be just fine.
I think I predicted our end when i wrote this.
 Apr 2017 maledimiele
Dreamer
3am
 Apr 2017 maledimiele
Dreamer
3am
"I am sick", you say.
Does your body ache?
Does you mind race like the clock in my room
like I swear every second ticks with three clicks
or is it your heart that hurts?
Like the old pocket watch I keep hidden in the chest
at the back of my cupboard some where,
it skips the beats, doesn't it?
It needs a rewind!
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