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Eve K Mar 2022
It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.

I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.

Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.

I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.

I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.

I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.

I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.

The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.

I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.

That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.

I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.

I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2022
“Say to my friends, when they look upon me, dead,

Weeping for me and mourning me in sorrow,

‘Do not believe that this corpse you see is myself,

In the name of God, I tell you, it is not I,

I am a spirit, and this is naught but flesh,

It was my abode and my garment for a time.

I am a treasure, by a talisman kept hid,

Fashioned of dust, which served me as a shrine,

I am a pearl, which has left it’s shell deserted,

I am a bird, and this body was my cage,

Whence I have now flown forth and it is left as a token,

Praise to God, who hath now set me free,

And prepared for me my place in the highest of the Heavens,

Until today I was dead, though alive in your midst.

Now I live in truth, with the grave – clothes discarded.

Today I hold converse with the Saints above,

With no veil between, I see God face to face.

I look upon “Loh-i-Mahfuz” and there in I read,

Whatever was and is, and all that is to be.

Let my house fall in ruins, lay my cage in the ground,

Cast away the talisman, it is a token no more,

Lay aside my cloak, it was but my outer garment.

Place them all in the grave, let them be forgotten,

I have passed on my way and you are left behind,

Your place of abode was no dwelling place for me.

Think not that death is death, nay, it is life,

A life that surpasses all we could dream of here,

While in this world, here we are granted sleep,

Death is but sleep, sleep that shall be prolonged

Be not frightened when death draweth nigh,

It is but the departure for this blessed home,

Think of the mercy and love of your Lord,

Give thanks for His Grace and come without fear.

What I am now, even so shall you be,

For I know that you are even as I am,

The souls of all men come forth from God,

The bodies of all are compounded alike,

Good and evil, alike it was ours.

I give you now a message of good cheer

May God’s peace and joy forever more be yours.”
vanessa marie Feb 2022
The streetlights shine through my warped glass panes
Spraying shapes for me to watch in vain
I wonder if after 50 years
Anyone will even remember my name
The cars whizz by at dangerous speeds
I lose sense of time and neglect my body's needs
Feeling myself whither away and unable to stop it
My life's coming to a crashing halt while theirs proceeds
I have never felt this alone before
I keep waiting and hoping for something more
But nobody can come save me from myself
As far as I'm concerned I'm done for
newborn Feb 2022
i love my body
my waist that isn’t the slimmest
but it’s doing the job
my lips aren’t the fullest
but they can taste
i admit i used to hate my legs
i despised the way they fell together
no thigh gap
plump in the mirror and through my judgmental eyes
but i had body dysmorphia
and she was so cruel to me
hitting me and shaming me for every little crease and imperfection on my body
she obsessed and i listened
and i cried and i watched myself twenty four seven
but now my legs are powerful
they could take down anyone
they’ve got a mind of their own
idk when i started loving every swoop and curve and turn my body took
i still think my stomach is too fat
it’s not flat enough
and i would and still **** in to create an effect as if i didn’t eat the two burgers
that i only ate one
but i know i shouldn’t be perfect
i should be human, after all
but how am i supposed to adore the parts of my stomach that don’t look like other womens’ do?
eat less, don’t bloat, stop drinking or you’ll float
i don’t take that type of criticism anymore
my body ain’t perfect
not even a bit
but i am human
what’s wrong with it?
cause it’s a built in truth teller
i won’t let any man stick around who doesn’t beg at my feet
and touch my body as if it were blessed by God
who doesn’t dream of tracing every edge of me and doesn’t say i’m pretty
he better wanna explore every part and dive in deep
love me in my rawest form, beautifully
i will leave him if he uses me for my body
i will love him if he waits for me
you know a body is just a outer wall
for the goopiness and strength of ones heart
so i will love my body
because it is a part of me
and not obsess over it
because it doesn’t matter at all to me
Wrote this 1/30/22

It’s been forever since I didn’t care what anyone thought about my body or how I looked and right now i feel quite confident about myself. I never think I’m fat anymore.

and if any person tells you to change your body or that you are too ugly just tell them that you aren’t perfect but you try and that they will never be good enough for you, because any person who has the guts to call you ugly or too fat when you look like a stick isn’t worth a single moment of your time.

That’s all, I think I love my body now. i am pretty sure. whatever. if that isn’t true, that is the reason for this poem

Enjoy...love yourself :}


edit- i hate everything about my body 8/8/22
Ren Sturgis Feb 2022
Your body against mine,
no fabric in between.
Your body so smooth,
nothing but perfection to me.
Heart races,
beads of sweat build on our skin.
Penetrates deep,
and diving deeper.
Pure ecstasy.
irinia Feb 2022
I want to write a poem about you
and use patches of my skin
instead of nouns
the passion of druids instead of
verbs
All I need is
Radiohead and
space to breath
in
your
breathing

(the body imagines what the mind can't)
Kimberley Leiser Feb 2022
I would take pictures
of myself on facebook but I would rarely ever wear a smile.


I would not take selfies not for attention and not for love from any love else.


They were just daily reminders  and the cruel reality was that I have always hated the way I looked.


I obsessed over my weight and thought if I did look skinnier that I would look great.

A  few times in my life I had to face my inner battle head on
it has won me an few times in my life.


At certain points in my life I rejected eating and enjoying my food.

All the fat comments took my joy of eating away, they were  
so vile and rude.

Being shouted at in the street and called the fat loser.  

In this period of my life I had an year of self hatered and defeat.

The eating issue was hard to beat.  
I would get triggered
if anyone mentioned anything relating to my weight if it was just another joke.


The echo of the rude comments
would stand out in my brain
repeating the same rude line.
"Your a fat loser"

Even when people in my family
said I was looking fine and were more concerned about my health.

The voice in my head would keep shouting that these are all lies.

I said to people around me
please do not keep mentioning
about my weight and just talk
about other topics.

Dont keep feeding the hate that is already there when there are plenty of things out than just talking about my weight.


It only magnifies the issue of the ED
and this makes it tougher to fight inside my mind.

I have accepted my ED and dealt
with some of my inner pain
that is only half the battle, in my own head I must learn to accept and love my body, be happier and eat more regularly without feeling any dread, guilt and remorse.


Love my self, ignore the haters and horrible cruel comments that have always stood out in my mind.

The comments and thoughts
are always going to be there
but I now I know I really dont care as much about this  
and to not let it control my life.


The rude people in the street
might have won the battle at the time
for a short while
but they never won the whole war over me.

I have choose now to accept my fate, eat again and be more health. Learning to love myself again and that is the final score.
trigger warning - poem about body image and issues with food its more about acceptance and gradually overcoming it in my head beating all the rude comments from the people in the street.
Zywa Jan 2022
As if my body

is new, and I, again, have --


to search for the brake.
"Hogere natuurkunde" ("Higher physics", 2019, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection "Home sea"
Gabrielle Jan 2022
it’s 2pm PST
my PTSD is eating me
ring finger on control key
my poor and lonely body
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