Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2014
I'm addicted, what can I say? Addicted to withering away.
The joy I get when my bones come out.
The joys of eating, I can do without.
Oh Ana how I truly miss you.
The pain and suffering, the obsession I've come to.
Please take me in your bony arms.
And keep me away from all that fat tendencies and harms.
Presence
Written by
Presence  Cambridge
(Cambridge)   
447
   ---, The Motherland and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems