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Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Escape ,
that's what I would do
when things would get tough.
I would binge,
dream, eat, read & scroll.

I would create another world
where I would live,
free to be.
The place I would
forget about my happenings,
but this was not reality.

I would procrastinate and escape,
but my reality would await
to cuff me away.

With every escape,
my reality would become
a struggle to face

To everyone I was living life
but was I?
For my body was anchored to this world
While my head flew to another

Then came a time
When I no longer wanted to hide
Even though I knew
I did not have the appetite
Because my reality had
become so hard to emotionally swallow
But there was no choice
but to face

Courage
Step by Step
Patience through it all
Change finally came across
And my reality had become a better place
mer Jun 2019
She covers the bags under her eyes with a face mask
and her split ends with conditioner,
her bitten ****** nails with pure white polish,
and calls her binge eating "treating herself"

She tells herself it's self care --
pretends she's doing herself a favor
by covering up her pain
so she doesn't have to look it in the face.

But face masks peel off
and conditioner washes away,
those perfect white nails will chip and wear off,
and eating disorders were never a treat
in the first place.
Anya Jun 2019
Truly, I feel most peaceful when
My face is attempting to go
Through the floor, smushed up
Against the little fibers containing treasures from last week’s late night snack
Before being swept away by the tornado known as the vacuum cleaner

I somehow really do like it
My stomach being repelled with every breath gives me the mistaken belief
That there’s no need for my exercise routine or that
I won’t be regretting the chocolate hazelnut churros and chocolate ice cream I indulged in
“Just this once”
My new favorite three words

But wait,
It’s not new
Simple the same old story repeating itself again
And again
        And again
japheth May 2019
you’re not an
episode
worth skipping.

you’re a
series
worth bingeing.
Caitlin May 2019
I have so many thoughts in my head
but none of them actually make sense.
Well, that's not true either.
But I can't figure out the order they go in.
I'm trying to be better.
To love myself harder.
I sing in the shower
and dance in the mirror
but only when its still fogged up.
I smile more in my pictures
and I don't delete the ones in my husband's phone.
I'm making little steps
to falling in love with myself
which is a lot of effort
when I can barely walk as it is.
I try not to hate myself when I break
and binge eat again
but its really hard not to
when I know that I won't eat again for a few days.
And I know its a problem,
and I don't know how to fix it.
I'm just trying to love myself through it.
Aliah Brimhall May 2019
You'd think 4 years would be enough
I longed for control and then I lost it
In this cruel cruel cycle

Binge
1000's of calories
guilt
shame
bloating
I feel control when my stomach hurts
I feel comfort

Restrict  
10's of calories
euphoria
shame
grumbling
I feel control when my stomach rumbles
I feel beautiful

This cycle is meant to be a form of control
but here I am
bingeing and restricting
until I can purge this hurt
djemal ua Apr 2019
mining liquid ice, cream vanilla something
at dawn, sugar, fat, whipped smoke rising hope
better than hate at breakfast, face etched snarling
a circuit ******, roll and tub down *****
slippery, thumbed a feast of biscuit crumbs
off a plate, table and at feet. Arrived
at loathing a choir rabid, sings morning.
morrigan Mar 2019
Order 90---
I am hesitant to get my tray.
I sit down, open the box
And breathe in fumes of decay.

You are greasy, thick, and full of fat---
Everything that disgusts me.

My body hates you.
My taste buds love you.
My stomach can't stand you.
I have to get rid of you.

I hover over the water
Seeing my reflection.

White porcelain haunts me
As I take a deep breath...

And let the sickness consume me.
suggestions to make this poem better are wanted. it's for a class and this is just the first draft. thank you!
Caitlin Feb 2019
I ate away the ****.
I ate away the abuse.
I ate away the depression.
I tried eating away the pain.
But now I can't keep eating.
Because of the words that you threw around like it was nothing.
Fat. Disgusting. Ugly.
I'm not sad and beautiful.
Like the girls you write the stories about.
Because my self harm was my comfort food.
The way your self harm was the lack of food.
I punished my body everytime I climbed stairs.
And I knew I deserved it.
Except now at my lowest,
I can't afford a salad.
Or a donut to find the seratonin that I crave.
And the only thing I want to eat now
Is a bullet.
Anya Jan 2019
A groan
A moan
Head ready to burst
Pickkkkk it upppp, yessssshhh
The traitorous voice hisses within
Pikkkkk it up and alllll your worrrrries are gonnnnneeeeee
I try-TRY to resist
Six is more than enough!
This vicious cycle cannot continue!

Too late
I’m binging on another tub of ice cream for another hour of Netflix
And another splitting headache coming right up
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