Recently I came to the conclusion that our body's are perfect, it's taken a long time! The fact is we are all truly beautiful and diverse in shape and size. I no longer look at the symmetry; lips, forehead, broad or narrow faces, chins, noses, jaw, eyes, cheekbones, how clear and smooth is the skin; how tall or small the frame.
I've come to realise that over time, these comparisons are a form of physical nostalgia; just a combination of shapes reminiscent of the many people we have loved or admired throughout our lives, and that our body image has become a measure of our perception of our physical self, our feelings, our positively and our desires.
I've come to the conclusion that all vessels embody the beauty of the individuals they carry; because everybody is both body and soul.
The girl with a beautiful smile A vibrant personality, And a picture perfect family. Envied and loved. Not a single person to hate Besides herself. The things that nobody sees is when She breaks down, Cries, And every night Hunches over the toilet With a spoon in her throat. Telling herself only one more time to be pretty. One more time to be happy. One more time to be loved. One more time to escape. One more time to get better. One more time to stop. She lets her emotions overrule And demons take control. Life shouldn't be this way. Her father's a drunk, her mothers a drug addict. She would do anything to escape this world Of darkness, But no one seems to know. She puts on this picture perfect image To protect herself, Despite it killing her that her voice will never be heard No one seems to even notice The bruises on her legs and back Or how she always seems to go to the bathroom Every time she eats "too much." If she told anyone, They would hate her, Her parents would hurt her, And she would never have any hope Of becoming the girl she pretends to be.
this poem is actually not really finished. I might delete this one later
Not many understand but I want them to I want them to know How you make me feel Restricting Bingeing Purging Counting Please understand what I'm going through I want to talk And you to listen You are my best friend But you make me feel this way Why me?
These sweet little pills flush my fears away, eradicating every content of my gut until I feel okay. The pain burns like a ravaging fire within, yet I am numb - for I know that once I am empty, the calm will come.
Self-hate rises like bile from the pit of my stomach and claws away at my throat - the kind of pure loathing for which there is no antidote. Revulsion of my reflection has claimed possession and poisoned me well; and led to a destructive path that is the equivalent of Hell.