I am the finger in your throat.
I want to be inside you.
I will keep you cute
The worst part is you know it.

You sick child.
You thought you could control me,
Put me in a box and keep me in the closet.
But now I control you.

Shaking, biting, convulsing, crying.
I make you do these things.
I own your body.
You poor thing, they say.
But I find no sympathy.

I have no emotion.
I make you impulsive and I laugh in your face.
I am only comparable to a sociopath.

You think that I'm gone now?
Oh darling, I am just below the surface
Waiting for you to slip up
Or for something disconcerting to happen to you.
Then I will come back full force.
And you will welcome me with open arms.

You will throw up your food before you digest,
All because you need "control"
You need to be "thin".
But you will never be good enough for me to go away.

I am the voice in your head saying,
"The scale is calling your name."
You try to block me out, but I am always there.

I am screaming in your ear
And when you scream back,
You will fall twice as hard
And there will be no one there to catch you.

Try to control me as you will,
Even with therapy,
I do not leave you.
I am a parasite, and you are my host.

I am **the Devil's agent.