Wispy thin hair atop her head
Her mind berating her for eating that bread
Eating disorders are not glamorous.

Progress is made
The number creeps up as she's weighed
But she is not cured.

Thin hands, thin feet
Her mind telling her she's too fat to eat
Recovery is not linear.

For recovery she has worked so hard
Yet her mind is focused on her unsightly lard
When will this preoccupation end?

The accomplishment of restriction
Satisfies a distorted internal conviction
Which must be put to rest.


I have to fight to not believe
What I think I perceive
I can't go back down that disastrous path again.