Sometimes I picture and ponder
Wither and wonder
What it would be like
To be thin again
My stomach yells at me
Begging me to feed it
But I just laugh it off
And tell her, "you wont feel it"
But whats the point
Of all this stuff
If I dont feel a single thing at all
Sometimes it feels like a storm
The waves crashing against the shore
Every drop of food, a sharp seashell
Every ounce of water, a inch of rain
Tell me when it'll be enough pain
May 7
May 7, 2026 at 3:07 PM UTC
Sometimes I picture and ponder
Wither and wonder
What it would be like
To be thin again
My stomach yells at me
Begging me to feed it
But I just laugh it off
And tell her, "you wont feel it"
But whats the point
Of all this stuff
If I dont feel a single thing at all
Sometimes it feels like a storm
The waves crashing against the shore
Every drop of food, a sharp seashell
Every ounce of water, a inch of rain
Tell me when it'll be enough pain
