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☆This an older poem, I decided to post.☆
Oh, & to my lovely readers,
Just remember the following:
—No one can make you concede defeat.
—You are whole without someone else,
         You are complete.
Unabridged by all rationale,
A masterpiece, assembled by fates convened. }♡{

When the pressure
of the air
around your body
feels like torture,
like suffocating.
Just remember,
when you think it's over,
that's when to fight - or you'll keep losing what's left quicker, & quicker.
Just dismember these words,
'Cause for better or for worse,
You can't leave yourself deserted.
When one does not know
the gazing stranger
in the mirror.
Frozen, head to toe,
colder than ice,
Deep within my mind, in an ethereal zone.
Behind closed eyes,
Feeling like a backseat driver,
Drunk, & in my own car - the basement of existence.
Flooded lungs,
Feet like phantom weights,  
The quiet swallows us.

The quiet disguise, oh my God, who do I trust,
When the man staring back,
will never know love.
I will never know love. ~
What could I miss, when I must miss what's considered life's most?

From another world,
or any mirrored surface,
The sinking sight of disfigured man & truth, swirl.
Against this apparition
frightened, staring
Wanting so much to run but I am always lured

Diminished for a while,
I began to look in the mirror with a smile.

the occasional feeling returns to me,
Like a Phoenix ruse, & blazing rise.
It is not unceasing,
But when I do feel it, all I can think of is it's absolute potency.
Dysmorphia takes leave - a trick,
& Like a calculated predator,
Unmercifully, it ensues.
Gotta get it's grip off my throat. God, let me go.
I will never know love. ~
& The smile hits me like a piledriver through soil,
I can imagine it unweaving soul.
I will never know love. ~
Oh the room has spun, and tables run,
Left with the emptiness of you.
Looked into the mirror & punched until it was done -
Spent midnight looking through a filter.
A reflection in blood.

I will never know love. ~

Emotionally consumed,
I'm too far gone, can't hold on, uncontrolled in the doom,
At least this time I feel something at all.
I will never know  my  love. ~

By: Ashton Conor Amstutz

highly recommended, highly nutritional, highly idealized, highly regarded, highly aware that my skin should be as tender as Jesus, a concoction of milkweed and baby's breathe, highly worthy of a man, high volume, high capacity, highly considering the recipes from God's kitchen, the smell of ***** and peppermint, highly bronzed and beautifully sick.
Lost Jun 9
All hip bones and ribcage
Flat stomach wasn’t enough
It had to be concave

Mirrors and lights
Lined up just right
******* in
As hard as I can
Why can’t I
Just be thin?
Another poem from my sketchbook I didn’t initially post.
Tamera Pierce Dec 2018
When I look in the mirror for the first time in the morning,
I feel fine.
I brush my hair.
I am fine.
I brush my teeth,
And I am fine.

Then I notice how my teeth aren’t as white as they could be.
But I still fine.
Then I put on my clothes and I notice how I spill over the sides.
But I am fine.
Then I notice how my hips jut out
And my jeans are never long enough in the ankles.

Then I spend ten minutes thinking of changing my jeans,
Because this shirt is too tight
But I opt for a hoodie instead.
Then I am lost in the hoodie.
I feel like a blob of fabric.
And then just a blob.

Then I get in my car and look in the mirror to adjust
And notice how dark under my eyes are.
When I’m pretty sure they weren’t that dark earlier.

As I drive to school, I notice my hands on the steering wheel
And ponder how they can be both fat and scraggly at the same time.

I get to school and notice people staring at me at the red lights
While I begin to cross the road.

I pass windows and with each one,
I notice my thighs grow larger with each step.
I notice how wide I am when I pass other girls wearing leggings
And I think of how I don’t wear leggings because of my cellulite.
Then I think about my ankles and I swear I can feel them swell.

By the time it is twelve o’clock,
I have convinced myself that I am a
Who tramples everyone in the room.
And the Earth is suddenly too small for someone as big as I am.

I hear that this is body dysmorphia,
But it still makes me not fine.
Isabel Aghahowa Nov 2018
maybe the words i said
couldn't contain themselves
into their strict meanings
and suddenly
i revealed my headspace

Suddenly you are a part of it
my dark twisted struggle for
a body removed
with a body that won't
will not
move from its concrete place

it's a different kind of silence
one only few learn about
Ayanna Fieldleap Sep 2018
Fingernails, moonlight, low-light
What’s the beast in the mirror I see?
It stares at me, it’s features moaning a sad soliloquy
I find it’s eyes, green, green, the colour of envy
Envy. Envy.
I find myself stretching skin.
Skin, it’s anthropomorphism deeply disturbs me
Why can’t I take it off
Peel it off, rip it off, burn it off, cut it off
Snip, snip
The more I stare the more it crumbles, it crumbles
I paint it’s mask with lacquer but the same pair of green eyes stare at me
What is that, who is that beast
The low-light consoles me but still I see it for what is
when the body dysmorphia hits u ****
Becca Lansman Jul 2018
My body and mind are at war
two beings occupying the same skin

the diverged desire firing bullets into the heart
creating a cacophony of chaos within me

******* the jar of peanut butter
hidden by the blanket of dark sky
hugging the fridge like a newborn
caressing the chocolate bar wrapper

crouched over
crying in the shower
pinching my skin until bright pink, hot
with anger

trying to resurrect myself into someone more holy
trying to starve
out the monster within

only to find myself back on the bathroom tile singing gospel songs into the toilet bowl.

a cyclical strom
that will not stop raging

like a perverted lover
always, somehow
dragging you back home.
Geanna Jun 2018
Do you know it feels to look
in the mirror and be
disgusted with what you see?
To always think you're a fat pig

Do you know how it feels to starve?
To feel your body eat itself
To hear your stomach
beg you for food

Do you know how it feels to
constantly work out?
To continue even if you're tired
and start crying

Do you know how it feels to force
yourself to *****?
To re-taste every meal and
have it all come rushing back out
To clean your ***** off of the toilet

If not, then congrats
You don't have Body Dysmorphia, Anorexia nor Bulimia

If so, then i'm truly sorry
just know that you're not alone
Things will eventually get better, I promise
~ G.P.O
I made this a bit over a year ago. I added the very last part
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