i made love to the idea of leaving my footprint on the world
without looking into the idea of my foot getting caught in quick sand
getting lost in dance for a while
but i could never dance the urges off of me
unsee the things i had to see
the insecurities spewed out into my toilet
it took me a while to realize bulimia is almost always metaphorical
and for a while it became a necessity

i forgot how to fix these things inside of me
my rather apathetic way of getting threw things
and after a while
my father's anger
got the best of me
there's this numbness in my chest
i can no longer think
i can't think knowing the secrets of my family
i can't think putting all their mistakes on me
i can't think knowing my parents rejected my hurting
and i can't eat
i can't eat with all these pains building up
inside me

i made love to the idea of leaving my footprint on the world
but i left a footprint on my soul instead
right now i'm barely beautiful
my urges leave me dead