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Jan 2011
Pick up a crumb
And stare at a slice
I can’t help but think
These can make you feel nice.

I’m forced to succumb
And it stings like ice
I dread to think
That this is my life.

Even just a thought
Of what it could do
It makes me feel guilty
And full of disgust too.

This can end in distraught
And everything it can do
Seemingly is only to be
Thin for everyone
Thin for you.

In fact it’s a habit
Now it’s my daily routine
Now I want to hide it away
Nowhere to be seen.

I want it rid of
I want it gone
Even if it kills me
But if I die
I’ll be done.
Written by
Victoria Newman
476
 
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