Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
I.
It is beginning
to be whispered now.

II.
"She's sick,"
and indeed
they're right.

III.
Spilling it
like spilled coffee
the world's most used
psychoactive
they all scatter in awkward
worry
for safety of someone
they care nothing for.

IV.
Do they really believe
that I am
a different human being
then I have been for two years
now you know I'm sick

V.
Because I am ill
because I cannot eat sometimes
and others cannot stop
because my body cannot get enough food
it doesn't know how to process half the things
I put in.

VI.
Because I am ill
because I cannot sleep sometimes
and others cannot stop
because my body cannot get enough rest
it doesn't know how to shut off the thoughts
and sink.

VII.
I get asked
"Do you have an eating disorder?"
because I am so skinny
there is nothing to me
I am not more then
Ninety-eight pounds on a good day
I have never been
one hundred.

VIII.
No.
I do not
have an eating disorder.
Steven Muir
Written by
Steven Muir  20/Transgender Male/Santa Clarita, California
(20/Transgender Male/Santa Clarita, California)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems