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Anne Aug 2016
"Keep that up and you'll end up like your mother."

I couldn't understand this message.
This strange jumble invented by my relative.
Keep what up?
What was I doing?

Eating.
I was chomping on a dessert that my aunt had prepared tenderly.
I was at peace with the world
but my uncle's comment left me distraught.

End up like my mother?
That's all I've ever wanted.
My beautiful, kind, selfless, assertive mother.
She was clever as a fox and delicate and a pink pedal.
End up generous and strong?
Yes please!

Still,
This man watching me eat,
Says it as if it is something to avoid.
There wasn't a correlation that could be made in my mind.

Years later,
I revisited the scene,
Only to have my heart weep for that small girl.
That tiny, confused child quietly nibbling on her cake.

Her mother also eating the treat,
But a larger helping for a larger woman.
She had always been large,
But in my mind that meant more room
For love and passion and aspiration.

"Keep that up and you'll end up like your mother."

I did grow over time,
As most children do.
My pounds piled on
And my skin stretched to make room for the garden growing inside of me.
My body grew larger.
But so did my honesty, my beauty and love for the world.

Maybe I did keep up eating cake,
And maybe I did grow in size,
But to say that 'I'm just like my mother',
Is the best complement I could receive.
The layout is super messy but this is something I think about a lot. You have no idea how much you can affect a child just by making a simple joke.
s Jul 2016
Eyes open
Feet on the floor
Stop to look in the mirror
Step on the scale
Cringe
Brush teeth
Avoid eye contact with
Ugly/*****/worthless/sad/girl
Close the door behind you
T shirt + leggings + converse
Eyes watering
Breakfast//no breakfast//fat//skip it
Keys
Open door
Turn on ignition
And drive away.

This is just getting out the door in the morning. It's getting harder everyday.
Idk what to do. My poems aren't even poems lately. Just rants. I'm sorry.
Lose weight
2, 5, 7, 10 pounds a week
You're still fat
Restrict no food for a week
Under 200 calories everyday
Get skinny
Too skinny
Do it
You'll just go back anyway
40 lost 9 weeks
Now we go faster and harder
Look, you're in control
Can't find that anywhere else
17 in 4 weeks
Then on 'til death
But you won't look like you have no self control like when you were 40 pounds over weight
Hey, did you know that you still need to lose a lot
Ya still look fat pig
MKM Jul 2016
I hate the way you hurt my throat, don't leave me.
I hate the way you scar my hands, don't leave me.
I hate the way you make me keep secrets, don't leave me.
I hate when you don't let me go out, don't leave me.
I hate that I can't ever get away from you, don't leave me.

Please, just don't ever leave me.
George Anthony Jul 2016
i was happier a few months ago.
sadder, too, more depressed; but happier
with myself,
with my face,

with my body
(even if i didn't realise it;
"you never know what you have
until it's gone"
is true.
scrawny, underweight body,
sharp cut cheekbones,
jaw practically pushing out of my skin—i miss you guys)

my mornings were dedicated
to porridge
and being on time for college,
and coffee so dark, my friends asked:
"what's the point of using milk?"

the point, my friends, is that
even though i am dark
and bitter,
with a temper so hot
i have to spit it out
(in insults, in graphic descriptions of premeditated ******)
lest it scald my tongue—

there is still some good within me.
not much,
but there it is:
just enough to taste it
if you close off other senses and
focus. really focus.

i think it is about time
i sought out my self-destructive
methods of
happiness
once again.

i am tired
of feeling like my own enemy
when
i am already certain

that the world is out to get me.
MKM Jul 2016
When did the numbers become so important?
Why do these inanimate things begin to have so much power?
Constantly scrutinized, and measured by them.
Though they don't show the depth of our character
Or the things that make our hearts glow.
We reach for the right one never knowing what actually is enough.
Constantly measuring, but never enough.
When does it end?
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