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Her Apr 2018
that moment
when the worry
begins to seep into
my veins

that moment
when the pain
begins to play
tricks within
my brain

i feel my collarbones
and know i'll be

o k a y
My passion is the evil sadness
Only this and a bitterness
Somewhat louder than the madness
Anxiety - anxiety - anxiety!
An echo murmured back the word, 'perplexity!'
The pedophobia penalty panicking
Quoth the appetite, 'Mind the complexity!'
I crave the wrong, worth wistfulness
Desolation - desolation - desolation!
The expectation laughed
Civilization, civilization!
Motivation, motivation!
That boring inspiration - that boring inspiration
My mind always strays to anticipations
In there stepped a barry 'aloneness'
The breathing smiled
I was a lifelessness and you a skittishness
Somewhat louder than the love child
It was profiled, wild, exiled!
And its eyes have all the regretting
What could be more purely addicting? The mourning never forgetting
And the breather never constricting.
I'm sorry that my poetry is horrible...
Shay Mar 2018
She’s no longer a person but a number on the scale,
driven by her inner voice’s need for her to become “dainty” and frail -
starving  and purging all in a bid to succeed and never fail,
but by giving in to “Ana” she simply cannot prevail.
bugsy May 2016
She is the girl everyone knows
With a gorgeous smile and no fears or woes
But deep deep down her world is falling apart
She hates herself and that’s only the start
They would never imagine the thoughts that pour through her head
And how every day she wishes she could be dead
They think that she’s happy and always smiling
But deep inside her soul is dying
She is the girl with the brightest smile
But nobody knows she’s forcing up bile
No one knows about the tears she’s tasted
She feels ugly worthless abandoned and wasted
She cries herself to sleep at night
But smiles again once it is bright
She is the girl that nobody knows
Behind closed doors forever enclosed
/gt
Angel Mar 2018
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.
Maria Monte Mar 2018
I know
Under all these skin
And fat hugging me
Happiness was etched on my bones.

I just needed to waste
Away enough to see them
And feel them under my fingers.

H-A-P-P-I-N-E-S-S
I grew up thinking that starving myself meant I was strong but I've never seen strong girls crying because they couldn't lift their own bodies.
Belle Mar 2018
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?"
Chloe Feb 2018
I love myself
in a world that longs for perfection.
And perfection is defined by
slender figures on shining billboards,
perfect scores on standard tests,
and a heart of gold in a heartless world.

I love myself
in this race we run against each other,
trying to be the first and the best.
Where only a few ever come close,
and many never do.
After all, we were born imperfect.

I love myself
so I won't let myself fall behind.
To subject myself to scorn and judgement,
and disappointment and anxiety,
when my efforts are too little and too small.
"Do whatever it takes to achieve your goals."

I love myself,
I promise, bent over porcelain sinks
with my hair tied back and ******* down my throat.
Because of a number on a scale,
the nausea that builds and the memories of
cloth draped over foggy mirrors.

I love myself,
I promise, as the hours tick by late into the night,
and I study until exhaustion takes my attention.
Because of a number on a paper,
the knowledge of failure and that
I will never amount to much in this world.

I love myself,
I promise, as the penknife hovers over unbroken skin,
and when the rush of traffic seems welcoming.
Because I am tired,
I am tired of imperfection, of
being unable to give myself what I want.

But eventually,
I swallow back my bile,
I pull away the cloth,
I hide the penknife in a drawer,
I step away from the traffic.

Because I love myself too much.
Societal pressures can be overwhelming, and even though we know they're wrong, we're tempted to turn to easier methods to cope.

All I can say is, whatever youre going through, you're not alone. Don't be afraid to reach out to anyone if you need a listening ear. Compassion is one of our better traits as humans.

That being said, it definitely isn't easy. Stay brave, stay strong.
Liberty J Feb 2018
I don’t like food.
I don't like the way it makes me feel.
Bloated and fat, and all your eyes seem to stab me.
It makes me
Anxious
Uneasy
Insecure
Ugly
But I come crawling back for more every time
Please just let me starve
Please just give me the strength to push
My finger
A few
millimeters
Further
Into my throat
I’m sorry that I have to survive
I’m sorry I must perform such an
Ugly
Task in front of you
But I am human
And we have to eat.
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