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Corbyn Feb 2019
Tik tok tik tok
When will I be thin?
I’ve been starving myself all these years
I really can’t seem to win

The number drops a little  
Then followed by some more
How much more of this treacherous time
Will I be able to endure?

I see that I am changing
But never quick enough
How come no one ever told me
Starving is this tough

If I could go back and eat
I want to said I would
But my brain has tricked me
And never tells me that I should

I can’t go back at this point
If only I was thin
Maybe it would make this game
So much easier to win
haley Mar 2018
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
They told her
As she dug her fingernails deep into her skin
Like her flesh was made out of playdoh
In the uncautious hands of a toddler.
Her life balances dangerously on her tongue,
steadied only by a love she will not swallow
For she has been told
“Too much sugar will rot your teeth.”
ngl this ****** i'm sorry but it's 11:00 and i want to go to bed
I Anonymous Feb 2018
Kneel before me at your white porcelain altar.
Sacrifice the bits of pieces you had stashed away inside,
Place them inside the holy not holy water.
Watch each piece and place where they were from.
Sacrifice to me
For I am your goddess.

Your martyrdom will be known throughout
For you died for the lives of animals, for their rights to live
By being staked- refusing steak
Not for the 679 other reasons you decided to say no.
Die a martyr for me
For I am your goddess.

Wear red rubies along your wrists.
No one will ask where they’re from or how long you’ve had them
But they will shake in fear for this rosary- your rosy cheeks
Is as holy as the blood I too have shed for you.
Bear my symbol
For I am your goddess

Do not fear the day I come to meet you at the gates.
Stand in your doorway arms outstretched.
Await me for I await- will weigh you.
Sleep at night and dream of my loving embrace
and my second coming,
For I am your goddess

Feel my not hands touch your not waist
And my not lips kiss your not face
For this is not me and this has never been you
Because you are a child
And I am a goddess
so its national eating disorder awareness week so i thought i'd publish this poem i wrote a while ago.
comes and goes with her symphony
everyday wears red lipstick
make new friends kindly
shows her compassion widely
I call her a charismatic
night calls her a star
shining behind the big moon
all above is about Neda joon
nick armbrister Feb 2018

You died in protest in Iran. Āghā-Soltān age 26. Your death caught on camera. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Sent around the world. Condemning the Iranian government led by the mad man Ahmadinejabd. Your fellow country people said they were called your name. We are Nedā. Your death was one of the most witnessed in history due to television and the internet.
Human Rights Watch said:
"She was a philosophy student who was a bystander to the protests when she was shot in the chest on Kargar Street. At the time of the shooting, Āghā-Soltān was not actively protesting, according to her relatives and eyewitnesses. She had been travelling in a private car stuck in traffic several kilometres from the main protests at Azadi Square, and had just stepped out of the car. Numerous witnesses have stated that there were no active clashes between protesters and security forces in the area where she was shot."
Your years of study over, stolen by an assassin's bullet. Unable to live your life, follow your dreams and contribute to life. But in death, you Nedā, won't be forgotten. You stand for freedom, life and against tyranny. Music was your love, you never did play your new piano. Stolen by that evil bullet allegedly fired by Abbās Kārgar Jāvid, member of the Basij militia. Symbolizing the people versus the government in the disputed election. Government authorities denied you a proper funeral and a ban on collective prayers after your ******, threatening your family if they mourned you. Evil actions by an evil government, like ****** or Stalin's evil way. Nothing but brutality. You Nedā are the opposite of that.
Europa – in the dark valley
between the world wars

Out of the total darkness came a light brighter than infinite suns...
Poetry on women (and men) in conflict...

Nick armbrister


Andy N
elizabeth Feb 2016
That was the summer our electric bill went up
because as soon as the sun went down
I would light up mirrors
that I stared down for hours
in hopes that I would lose

My self esteem
with every inch I lost
from my arms, legs, fingers, chest,
but if I could just take a few more
from my waist then I would be

Mentally unstable and out of control
as I stay in line with 1,200 calorie days
and sit-ups before bed
because a coworker offered me a cookie
and I couldn't say

No one should have to feel like they're dying
in order to feel beautiful
but how can you fly
when your wings are too heavy
to get off the

Ground level is where I am right now
but at this point I'm used
to taking the stairs
so the top doesn't look
too far away anymore
Kristen Lowe Feb 2015
Not poetry.

But please read? It's important. I promise.
elizabeth Feb 2015
You hate what you see
when you look
at your reflection
so you do everything you can
and nothing at all
in hopes that you start
to waste away

Stopping yourself from living
will **** the passion in your eyes
and soon they will be incapable
of seeing brightness
and your new reflection
will be worse than the one
you hated before

They forget to tell you
the new shadows on your face
make everything seem darker
because there is less surface area
on which the sun can shine

No one will tell you
that laughter and late night pizza
with best friends and warm thoughts
will taste better
than emptiness and hunger
for something more

The food might leave
an aftertaste somewhat similar
to regret,
but at least it has more flavor
than the air you **** in
to keep yourself from faltering
In honor of NEDA Week

— The End —