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aimee achten Jun 2016
the pain i feel is real
as real as all i see and touch and hear,
but you are not real,
you do not feel.

you are plastic,
you're stretching and bending,
almost like elastic,
trying to fit in

im happy in my ******* bin,
and, though i cry i will fake a smile,
drowning my pain in gin,
so i will fake it for a while
aimee achten Jun 2016
Is it really possible for me,
to be what they want to see?
Though I've never done it before its there, the urge
it sit still as stone until violently it screams, "just purge".
The smell off food cooking is like poison yet i eat
and eat
and eat
until all I've done for an hour and a half is eat.
my skin quivers and crawls,
no escape from these four walls.
This house is like a prison cell,
all you can hear is the ringing of a bell,
though logically you no its silent,
but silence is most definitely violent.
And so the struggle begins again
to avoid that horrid gain.

— The End —