I've always been obsessed with bones

When i was only 10 years old i saw a beautiful woman with extremely skinny, long and straight legs.
I wanted to be like her.

As long as i can remember i've always looked at peoples collarbones.
My friends says i'm obsessed with bones.

"How many coins can you stack on your collarbones?
I can stack 23 on each.
Wanna see a picture?"

If you want to look skinnier,
push back your *** and lean a bit forward.
That way you'll appear to have a thigh gap.

When i get anxious,
i rub the places on my body where i can feel bones.
It calms me to know i still have them

If you want to lose weight.
Starving is a great idea.
Drink water to fill you up, and burn at least 800 calories a day.

When i feel sad, i hit myself.
I don't like cutting, not anymore.
Bruising is much better.
The bonier you are the faster you bruise.

Everyone relates to a skeleton.

i used to worry about my screen time
but that was before i had to worry about my scream time
then, screen time meant 'keep me clean time'
and now im left with no time.

you see - i keep telling myself its high time
that i stop dancing in this rhyme line
and start acting like its my time

that this life line
(that was actually a knife line)
is not something that i should want to see online.

I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder and i'm not getting "too thin"

It's not like i lose a lot of weight.. Maybe 3-4 pounds a week.
But then i gain it back and lose a little more the next time.

My demons laugh, everytime i resist a piece of food.
They're proud of me, cause i'm still standing. Even after being empty for so long.

I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder, and i'm not getting "too thin"
I'm becoming a better me

At least you're recovering they said
"At least you're better now"

Well.. If i'm better now.
Why do i write the same ****** poems as i did last year?
And why are they exactly tas depressing as the old ones?
Why do i wait for tears that won't roll?
And why do i listen to my playlist, that's filled with depressing songs about suicide?
And why do i weigh the same as i did a year ago?
Why do i think about razor blades and matches?

I'm not better now.
Actually i'm worse than before.
The only thing i'm good at is having nervous breakdowns and hurting myself.
But i keep lying to make you feel good, cause it makes you happy to know that i'm "better now"

Everyone thinks i recovered months ago, that i'm so so happy and have no problems.

Cause i'm the girl watching mlp, and listening to songs about smiling and laughing.

But what they don't know is that at home i listen to songs about depression and eating disorders .

I no longer cut, cause i haven't felt the need to for a while, and i no longer starve, i just forget it sometimes.

Sometimes i forget that i'm recovering.
And i simply don't think about eating.
Or about singing the smile song when my friends are sad.

It's like i'm pinkie pie, sometimes i'm happy, but sometimes i also forget that i'm a party pony

I try to look my best, and people can't tell how sad i get every now and then.
Cause i try.. I really do..

It's been a few years,
since I picked up that blade
determined to slice the sadness
out of my viens.
Ridges and indentions
of scar tissue
litter my body.
Yet, even now,
when I get really down,
I still want to add to my collection.
I am starkly aware
that it's not right,
not at all; but,
nothing else works quite as well.
Besides...
perhaps it's a punishment, too.
One that I deserve.


(d.d.b)

Life is a big ball of yarn.
Each passing second being
braided into the past,
the present being set in
stone and the future
keeps changing.

I feel my body turning into
dust. Instead of just
floating in the life I've
been given, the yarn
pulls strands of my hair,
pulls dead skin off my
pillow. It pulls my tears
and drops of blood away.
It moves bits and pieces
of me into history.
I feel myself decaying.

They no longer know
who I am. I feel
like saying, "People change
when they know they're
dying."

The world becomes black
and white and clouds
are shadows. Lights become
the sun and the sun
is just another
rotting planet.
    The world is decaying.
    Trees all dead, leaning with
    leaves made of dead skin.
    All the yellow dandelions
    higher than the stoner downstairs.
    The white weeds don't have
    seeds. Just acid leaking
    out of them and the
    smoke we breath out reeks
    of lost hope and dead
    promises.

Do not ask me why
I reply so slowly.
It's because honestly
nobody speaks loudly
enough for me to hear
over the screaming
of people drowning in my
stomach acid.

    I can see his shadow
even in the dark.
The demon not with
horns or fangs.
No tail, his reflection
shows and pictures can
be taken.
    Just another twisted
    thought inside my mind.

I feel his arsenic breath
get closer with each passing
day.
    He will not leave me
alone until he can tie my
phalanges together. Have
a crown of my broken
bones to show that he is
the king of my skeleton.

    I feel him inside my
skin crawling, faster than
my slowing heart beat. He
survives in my battery
acid blood. He thrives
off my scorched insides.
You see hell is his home.
He's at peace with death.
    His mind is twisted more
than my body when
    he ****** me.

He demanded a queen but
when he got a servant
he took advantage of my
calloused hands and bruised
mind.
    You see this man
    was no king.
    Just a black market
    dealer
      who didn't know how
      to keep his hands off
      of the merchandise.

   He never had any customers
   but broken girls.
   So when I was whole
   he was intrigued.
     I was a box
     he took everything out.
     Broke me down,
     laughed as the trashman
     took me to next town.

I've said before
that you don't know
me.
But I'm pretty
sure that I don't
know myself either.
I've changed so much in
the past week that
my skin has become
tarnished.
He destroyed my insides
and put holes on my
outsides. I've extended
the damage he did by
dwelling on it.
His face engraved in
my brain
and his name tattooed
under my tongue
like a ***** secret
you have to bite on.

I remember his voice,
and the record gets stuck.
The world around me
disappears and I can
see him holding me down
trying so hard to get into
my pants.
He told me I shouldn't
be scared.
My hands were above
my head and I couldn't
wipe away the tears.

He let me go and I ran
trying to go home.
He held me, told me
it was okay and
to stay.

He grew like mold inside
me.
I want to say it's my
fault I let the infection
grow this big.
I saw all the signs but
I never tried to get
rid of it.
I was mercury and he
was room temperature.
I melted in his seemingly
normal presence.

When people spoke
I never listened.
I thought I deserved
to rot in my own ****.

I got worse with my
victim mind set.
I let him soak into
my skin not caring if
it made my insides rot.

He still lives under my
skin. Like tapeworms he
makes my stomach crawl.

I saw him as a knight
but little did I know he
got his armour from party city.
He dressed up for me
at first.
Then he started wearing a different
mask.
He got controlling.
I broke his curtain
tumbling through a window
and he hit me.

Flashbacks like car lights
in front of my eyes.
I stand in it reveling
at the thought that I
can handle a car hitting me.

My mind is so intertwined
with his body
I feel his hands
gripping my wrists.

Like wives were buried.
with their husbands
and never mentioned.
I am still under his
thumb and my ashes
will be spread over
his grave to symbolize
how he engulfed me.

I'm sitting in my bed
Listening to depressing music.
Just like i do every night.
I'm writing the same poem, over and over again.
It's about suicide.
The sweet thought about being dead.

But i've been trying so hard, for so long.
And no one seems to really care about me.
When i talk i am often just ignored.
I'm teased for being different, and when i tell my teachers that i don't feel too well mentally, they're like "oooh you're just so sensitive"

And i just can't take that **** anymore..
Everyone thinks it's so easy to be me, cause i always seem so happy.
But i have a hard time even faking it anymore..

I've tried way too hard, for way too long, to make people like me.
But i'm giving up..