I’m friends with this girl named Ana, I started to eat less.
Hating the person in the mirror, my life has become a mess.
My best friend is named Ana, she always talks to me,
She tells me to skip meals, maybe two or three?
Ana is the one I listen to, she’s smart and full of advice.
I’m starting to get smaller, my health is the sacrifice.
Mia is my friend too, she pushes me around.
The food has become the enemy and I couldn’t lose a pound.
I’m scared of this girl Ana, I can’t get her out of my head.
It finally occurred to me, that Ana wants me dead.
Mia hurts me too, she makes me want to purge
Buying lots of binge food, I cannot stop the urge.
She even hurts my throat, it burns with every retch.
She even makes me exercise, it hurts when I stretch.
I hate Ana and Mia, they make my life a hell.
Someone please hear my silent screams because she won’t let me tell.
I’m a prisoner of Ana, I’m captive to her will.
I’m doing everything she tells, how can I be fat still?
My murderer is Ana, she starved me to the grave.
My heart finally stopped beating, I failed to be brave.
If you want a happy ending, this story’s not for you
Ana and Mia are silent killers and they’ll even **** you too.

Sometimes in the summer and maybe in the spring,
I'd call to see how you are but you'd never answer.
June was your favourite month
and the 25 leaves that fell off your favourite tree.
But you weren't around to see
them so you pictured them in your head
and I pictured you too and I'd picture the times we
spent together because they
were the best times but now
that you're dead I picture you
more often even years down the line when your body is
gone but your legacy lives on.

We've all seen brighter days
When the sun is out and the rain goes away,
When the person we love, loves us too.
When the person that's dying, finally pulls through
But bright days can't stay bright forever,
And the person we love doesn't want us to be together anymore
And the person that's dying is at death's door.
We've all seen brighter days
When the bad days are gone,
But in order to get through them
We must carry on.

The eerie silence, the disappearing echo.
"Goodbye" you said as the door slammed shut.
The emerald eyes, the woman's stiletto.
A love that was crushed like a cigarette ****.
The lies that lasted, the love that did not.
Your sweet nothings were no longer sweet.
The trigger of a gun, the loudest shot.
A love filled of regret and deceit.
The flood of tears, the blood stained hands.
A love so distraught and never to last.
The screaming sirens, the constant demands.
A love that remained in the past.
You left me for her but you paid the price.
You're to blame for your own demise.

Amy Helen Smith – 1928 – 2015

You had years until your 100th birthday, we’re sad you had to go.
But now you’re with your husband and the angels that love you so.
They’re going to look after you and make you feel at home.
They’re going to keep you safe and help you not feel alone.
You’ll always be missed by everyone, you’ll be loved by us all.
We’re staying strong for you and we’re trying to stand tall.
But your departure hit us hard, harder than we expected.
And when we heard you died, it was even harder to accept it.
It wasn't your time but you were torn from life.
Maybe you were needed up there,
But were still unaware as why.

The days go on, the nights get longer.
She can’t keep fighting, they’re getting stronger.
The thoughts are sinister, they keep her awake.
They’re taking her life, for goodness sake.
Do you see what’s happening? She’s fading away.
The thoughts are powerful and leading her astray.
The days go on, the nights get darker.
The demons are growing and becoming smarter.
This girl is dying, she’s mentally weak.
Her moods are low and never to peak.
She can’t live like this, so let her die.
It’s her time to go and say goodbye.

My mind is like a war zone but without the ammunition.
The thoughts are like a solider on a search and destroy mission.
The guns are like the process that puts thoughts into my head.
The bullets are like the voices that say they want me dead.
My mind is like a war zone and I’m a prisoner of war.
Serving a life sentence, I can’t take it anymore.
It’s a fight that needs to end, that needs to end right now.
If only I had willpower and if only I knew how.

She battles her demons, day in, day out.
They don’t stay quiet, they scream and shout.
They tell her she’s ugly, they tell her she’s fat.
Her thighs are too big and her stomach’s not flat.
She starves herself but that’s not enough.
This desire to be thin has proven to be tough.
It’s making her miserable, it’s making her sad.
The quicker the weight loss, it won’t be as bad.
But the weight is staying and it won’t disappear.
She’s taking it to the extreme
And she’s making it clear
That she wants to be thin
And thin she will be.
But what you don’t know is that girl is me.

Her body was fragile, her body was thin
Little did we know; she threw up in the bin.
It was all in her mind “pretty girls don’t eat”
And models themselves are always petite.
But there’s always a secret, a secret behind
The reason why these girls declined
The food they were offered and the drinks they were poured
And the high calories dishes were always ignored.
Dieting and pills became the norm
And the media portrayed it as a new art form.
But this “new art form” was a dangerous entity
And no one knew its true severity
Of this illness that gets in your head
And the sinister voices that want you dead.
But you listen to them as they’re your only friend,
The ones that will be there to the very last end.

This girl is drowning, she cannot escape,
From this wretched life filled with self-hate.
She cannot be saved, she just wants to go,
Leave without notice and not let anyone know.
The days go by, the hours get longer,
The demons inside are now getting stronger.
Pills, a blade, a suicide note.
The demons they killed her, it's ****** she wrote.

their cruel words engraved on her skin,
forget about her, it's the evil within.
the evil that haunts her, that makes her afraid
of life and living, as she turns to the blade.
she makes the first incision, she makes the first cut
she feels the blood pour and keeps her eyes shut.
poor little girl, she's dead on the floor
she can't feel pain or anything no more.
she goes to a place so pretty and white
another girl was taken tonight.
we blame ourselves, we blame each other
we apologise one after another
we say say nice words, we say our respects
but why say it now? now that she's dead?
we could of said it before, before she bled.
but we were too blind, too blind to see
that someone is suffering, suffering in silence
living a life of self harm and violence
a life of hurt, a life of pain
but now that she's dead, we start to complain
how society treated her and that society's to blame
but we are products of society itself
we just ignored it and nobody helped
nobody cared, in fact no one knew
that a girl like this could never pull through
the demons they killed her, they made her like this
something that society would always dismiss.