These Stairs. Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.
They keep getting longer,
and I keep dragging myself up them,

They form a spiral, but it's an inefficient shape.
It's constantly growing and shrinking.There is no end to the illusion. Illusions will never be as they seem.

I'll be pulling a heavier weight. I'm pulling a heavier weight I'm pulling myself. I'm pulling myself. I'm dragging my feet.
I'm exaggerating my movements. I'm exaggerating my words.

It's growing. Growing. Growing.
Like an infesting species to a house.
I'm crawling. I'm crawling. This is too much. This is too much. This is too long. This is too long. Too much. Too long. Too much. Too long.

These stacks of neverending words grow, and I tell myself to stop saying the biggest words that come to mind.
I tell myself to forget my pride. If I ever want to reach the top, I must.

They are so hard to decipher, but I can't stop climbing them, trying to conquer the enquizative knowledge of my insanity.
I keep stepping. Stepping. Stepping. Stepping.
I slowly drag my weight. Drag. Drag. Drag.

I slowly find myself climbing the words. Climb. Climb. Climb. Verb after verb. Trying to signal rhyme after rhyme. But, to my horror, when I reach the top.

There is nothing but a shadowed surface, filled with mistakes and tragedies. There is nothing but a reflection. Nothing but a small, skinny girl. And, to my horror, I realize,

IT IS ME.

Crying,
Over the bathroom scale because I think the numbers are taunting
Smiling,
Because if people actually saw how I was feeling they'd avoid me.
Hurting,
Because I'd rather bottle it up than tell anyone
Dying,
Because not eating is more appealing than being happy.

I feel it
I hate it
I can stop it. I can eat.
Food tastes guilty.
I lie,
I starve.
I hide the fact that I'm hungry,
But I'm not going to eat.
Not yet.
Not until I've taken control

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
They told her
As she dug her fingernails deep into her skin
Like her flesh was made out of playdoh
In the uncautious hands of a toddler.
Her life balances dangerously on her tongue,
steadied only by a love she will not swallow
For she has been told
“Too much sugar will rot your teeth.”

she told me it would be okay. that everything would work out.
that i could lay in summers green grass, gazing into the blue sky.
she told me it would stay sunny, she didnt say fog would arise and clouds would start to cover.
she told me it would help me thrive, give me wings and grow flowers.
but when the wings grew they were broken. the flowers made me choke. i couldn't fly, i couldn't breathe.
the sky was all grey and she told me to keep going, there would soon be blue.
she would mend my broken wings with starvation and watching other people eat all the food i could not have.
she told me the flowers choke me to control me.
she was right.
she rubbed my wings with all the oils i kept out of my diet and they did heal.
but every time i would place food onto my tongue, or something other than diet drinks to flush my system, she would break my wings again and the grey would come back.
she'd reach down my throat and cut the flowers with shears of fire. standing above me as i screech in pain. waving them at me, yelling, "look what you have forced me to do."
so i walk with dead flowers and broken wings until i serve her again.
then she shows me a chart of all the food i haven't eaten in that week and applauses me.
i am tired.
i am in ******* pain.
but i am happy.
she heals me once again.
my flowers again choke me as they bloom, and i can fly.
my wings, stained with blood and tainted with scars.
I don't need food.
she told me that food is my enemy and food will only cause a disturbance.
but i am being sent away now and they are making me eat and ai am really unwell and doesn't she think that its about time?
i put the food in my mouth and finish one hundred percent.
she violently grabs my wings and pulls me to the ground.
one by one she plucks the flowers, i feel for my wings, where are they?
she told me, "don't you understand how much we have sacrificed?"