"I'm not hungry"
I say as I gulp back pain,
my stomach growls and
I cover it up with a sneeze.

"I'm not hungry"
I hide in the bathroom and
hug my stomach in pain.

"I'm not hungry"
I wave them away
as I struggle to think correctly.

"I'm not hungry"
I say as the room
blurs and spins.

"I'm not hungry"
I say as I delete my search history
filled with articles
on eating disorders.

"I'm not hungry"
I say as hunger aches
and claws
and tears
at my stomach like an animal
begging to be fed.

"I'm not hungry"
I type out as tears
fall down my face,
reminders
that I'm hungry
when I tell everyone
I'm not.

"Please, I'm so hungry"
I beg myself,
curled up in bed,
wrapped in blankets,
shivering and groaning.