children
         oh children
stop listening to your elders
who knows you,
don’t you anymore?

children
         oh children
don’t you wish to change?
looking to the greats of the past is not changing,
(for the future does not live in the past)

children
         oh children
but it is what you are taught and taught
looking to parents who looked to parents to parents to parents
until the freedom of thought is ****** out of your mind
****** like the sickening slurping of the vanilla milkshake that the ****** in the corner sips on

whose name is
america
        america!
                  america!
i speak to your children
(for the children who will follow the ****** in the corner)
they will listen to the ****** in the corner
so they can become america

(for it is america who is perfect)

perfection
            oh perfection
you burn deep,deep into my veins
full of insulin, from the diabetes that america has claimed


******
       oh ******
it seems like i am your child(you are all children to me)
you won’t
         you won’t
listen
         to me
you are older than me
you will not
          respect me
but time seemed to change
and you stayed the same
  
america

"Go to the pool."
"Ride your bike for once."
"Go to the gym with your friends."
"Play in the park."
"You can't eat **** like that and expect to not gain any weight."
"Get off your **** and stop being lazy."
"Why can't you be more active?"
"You're such a ******."

Why do you always pick on me? I try to do those things but when you leave a list of chores that take 6 hours, its not like I can do much. All while I'm babysitting your children. I just wish I could be the "skinny" daughter that you want. I'm comfortable in my body until you say these things. Then when I start to feel better, you knock me down again.

Should I stop eating all together and finally give you,

**Skinny?

Insecurities are poisonous to a child's mind
It causes so much negativity in themselves that one day, death is the only thing positive left.
And it's not like that whole
"Oh Romeo, let me drink this poison to fake my death in order to be with you."
No, It's more like,
"Oh Romeo, I'm so FAT AND UGLY LET ME JUST USE THIS DAGGER IN ORDER TO
                END MY EXISTENCE"
And it's definitively not that whole "Teenaged Angst" psychologists come up with
It's more like society's baby food is starting to poison it's children.

You see,
Not so long ago society started this whole standards issue on how girls and boys are supposed to look like
Girls are supposed to have that hourglass figure where regularly eating is considered being a ******.
And where anerexia is the new cover of beauty magazines.
And guys are never supposed to cry,
Because tears are a sign of weakness and not how strong they've been holding those weights in.
And guys who are always on the cover of men's magazines are those muscle headed jerks who treat women as if they were mere objects

You see,
According to society
That whole lesson on "Be Yoursellf" is just a myth because being yourself is a sign of ugliness
And to trule feel that sign of beautty is to wear the mask of another.

And not so long ago,
I used to think like that.
I used to have those grey clouds in my head because there was always that one negative voice telling me I wasn't good enough
That no one wanted to be near a horrible existence liek me.
All those compliments like
Pretty
Beautiful
Unique
And Cool
Turned into insults like,
Ugly
Hideous
Plain
And Stupid
This whole negativity turned into a game of darts,
Where I was the target and te insults were knives
And it got to the point where I thought sweet ever lasting afterlife seemed like the only way out.
But because I'm the type of person who over thinks her actions,
Something like suicide never played out.
Days went by,
And all those pretty compliments turned into ugly insults,
And it seemd like that glimmer of hope wasn't going to come shine down through the dark clouds.
Even that game of insult darts,
Was trying to aim its knives at my heart.

Then...
One day,
I looked into a mirror
And I finally saw that pretty girl everyone was talking about
Those grey clouds in my head finally cleared up and showed Mr. Sun.
Those knives aiming for my heart turned into cherry blossom petals dancing in the wind.
Even those insecurities the negative voice pointed out,
Turned into compliments, perfections, and even beatifications
You see,
Insecurities can poison a child's mind
But,
It's up to the child to use it as a leathel weapon or an antidote for life long lessons.
Looking back on that self reflecting day,
I have learned to turn those imperfections that once kept me down into perfections that can hold my self esteem high up.
And I've learend that
I am terribly afraid of being someone other than myself.
So,
Livingup to society's standards of a female no longer worries me.
Because
The only standards I should worry about are the ones I make for myself.
And
Insecurities should no longer be apart of that.

**** she a fatty,
Absolute circle chonker,
I’d pat that fat ***.

What's a guy to do, when he encounters you?,
It's not even your looks, your nose is like a hook,
And inner beauty is void, you leave me so annoyed.

You prey on young men, luring them to your den,
Then you **** their funds dry, and will bid them goodbye,
You just toss them aside, god woman where's your pride?,

I can see what you're doing, it's not me you're fooling,
My man's not for the taking, you make no mistaking,
He sees what you're like, he calls you the town bike.

So move along *****, my love's really fussy,
He likes girls with class, not some cheap ******,
Avert your eyes elsewhere, look, there's a teen, over there....



(c) eileen mcgreevy 2009

Run run run,,
Tooo slow
We're coming we're going to **** you,
Run run run
Tooo slow, we have you, you can’t escape,youre too weak,
you can't leave we have you,,
Run run run tooo slow again
Cut, lose weight.. ****** **** ur worthless meaningless,
Cut cut
Run run run

Too
      L
          A
               T
                  E

There are many ways to break
a person down: whether persistence,
verbal or physical brutalizations.

The worst type, by far, is the quick
lash of the tounge. "That makes you
look frumpy..." Or "You've really gained some weight." Things she
categorizes and compartmentalizations
into foreign areas of the mind.

Weight is a shallow, low blow, she thought. However, the words slice
harsher than any insult she's ever heard. ******. Ugly *****. Lonely big girl. That's the garbage thrown to her.

What she needs is reassurance. Affirmations--pretty and pathetic--
that she should be comfortable in her
own flesh. The very body she breathes in and carries is the one to be loved.

Size 2 or 22, pants and dresses don't immortalize the true beauty of being. They don't capture the heart and soul. But most important of all, they have no ******* impact on the radiance one emits.

I remember the day we first met.

Two scrawny, energetic young scamps too excited to make the transition into our education.
From day one, we were together.
All day, every day.
People asked us if we were brother and sister.
And everytime, our answer quickly escaped our grins...
                       Yes.

Let's fast-forward to the third grade.
Our heads were still innocent enough not to know the flaws
we would eventually have but I was still mature enough to know
that when you walked up to me that morning with
tears and terror streaming down your face,
letting the words "My mom left us" seep through your painful gasps.

I was nine years old when I first saw someone's heart break.
I tried to sweep the pieces back up and glue them back together...but I failed.
It wasn't until later that night that my mom woke me
in the middle of the night to explain that your mother didn't leave,
but went to prepare a safe hiding spot from your father's fists.
We talked on the phone every night until you came back.
The stupid chatter of whatever a nine year old even thinks about
tying up the phone lines for hours at a time.
That was the first time you told me you loved me
It was the first time first time I ever believed it.

Now let's fast forward to the seventh grade.
Junior high.
A boiling *** of hormones and hate.
By this point, I hadn't talked to you in two months.
The judging panel of life had already confirmed what I knew was to happen.
Bubbly, boy-crazy blond girl rises to the top
Insecure, boy-crazy ****** boy sinks like a boulder.

I was thirteen when I first felt my heart break.
My eyes were opened to the **** life was ready to dump on my doorstep.
I knew that lines were to be drawn
I just never would have guessed we'd be on opposite sides.
I got called ******.
You called yourself silent.

Next, let's talk about year that ended everything: senior year.
A year of endings.
Graduation from the hell hole that was high school.
Leaving my mother for the first time since birth
Leaving my friends since the first day we stepped onto the playground together
thirteen years earlier.

We started off strong.
We were determined to end our school years the way we started them: together.
We would go off to the same college, get an apartment,
and everything was going to be fine.

Six months had passed
We hadn't spoken for one of them.
You had me pegged as your sworn enemy.
I was terrified to wake up in the morning
because I knew I would have to look at you
instead of seeing you.

I was eighteen when you broke my heart for the final time.
Your army of farm-town morally upright teenagers
had done their best to destroy me.
But I still walked. I still dragged myself around,
****** and bruised from your attacks.
I thought things were cooled down.
I just wanted out.
Then you said it.
That final day.
You called me a ******
and said you hated me.

Now, almost a year later, whenever I think of you my eyes start welling up.
Your words, spoken and unspoken, still sting.
I know that I hate you.
But I don't know why I still care.

What I do know is that I don't need you.
I've met the most wonderful group of people
far greater than I could have ever imagined.
But still, whenever I'm with them, I'm thinking of you.
Wondering what I need to do for them that I didn't do for you.
I just hope their feet are more stable than yours.
I can't handle anyone else running away.

I've been called "******" so many times,
It seems to be written in the stretch marks of my thighs.

Puke.

No girl would like me
Uuuuuuuugh
Look at my *** belly
Uuuuuuugh
Today somebody sqeezed my "man *****"
Uuuuuuuugh
Somebody called me a ****** but its a "joke"
Uuuuugh
Don't eat that you'll feel worse
Uuuuuuuugh
You're so full
Uuuuugh
You gained some weight dude jeez!
Uuuuuuuuugh
No breakfreast or lunch only dinner
Uuuuuuuugh
Feel the acid in you're throat
Uuuuuuuugh
You're a boy so of course no one will know,
Uuuuuuugh
Wear big shirts and baggy cloths
Uuuuugh
Don't go anywhere without a hoodie
Uuuuuuuugh
No *** for you you're disgusting
Uuuuuuuugh
F#ck a big heart, look at that belly,
Bbblaaaaaauuuuugh
Get out of the shower...

Where can you even summon the audacity
To tell me that lately you have been mad at me
For building up a little bit of self worth in my head
Am I wrong for no longer wishing I was dead?
"I miss the way you used to act,  
So nice, I want the old you back"
The old me? That self hating *******?
Who only was happy on his ***, ****** or plastered?
You don't know what it's like, you **** fool
You've never been afraid of the judgement at school
You've never been called ******, ******, or four eyes
You've never thought of a compliment as more lies
You have no idea how the **** I felt
I beat myself, left bruises, welts
It was middle school, when I found out new ways
Of popping pills in class to get through the days
Well I guess now, sure, i'm popular enough
But I still have that sickening feeling in my guts
The reminder, I was that fat kid that everyone bullied,
Don't ever judge me, you don't ******* know me.

Don't love your food less because you want him to love you more. When he holds your hipbones in his hands, he is not holding your heart.

2. Delicate flowers can't survive on water alone. Don't drop yourself into a skinny vase until you wither. You deserve so much more.

3. Don't confine yourself to the scars on your thighs; you are more than that.

4. If you feel insignificant, sketch stars on your skin. Do not count them. You have created a universe on your body. As you live, planets are born. Stars implode. You are so powerful.

5. When your eyes scan your reflection for flaws, know that you will always find them. This does not make you terrible. The stripes on your hips are there because you are alive and your universe is expanding.

6. When your best friend is admitted to hospital, reassure her. Tell her she is beautiful. When she does not believe you, hold her quietly.

7. When you are admitted to hospital, let Mom cry. When she tells you you're beautiful, try to believe her. Let her hold you quietly.

8. Do not hand onto his words. You mean so much more than "******."

9. Do not count the calories you eat. Count the smiles and the tears and every time the sun lights your face. Do not count the calories you eat.

10. By the time you write this, you will have made a decision. Reading this, I know it seems like the road to hell never ends. But when you get to write this poem, you know that it does.

Because you turn around and walk away.

The day I met you, you held my hand while my parents screamed, stayed on the phone when I didn't want to face the deafening fall out. That night I bared my body to you, forgetting you were a stranger twice my age.. You told me we are perfectly compatible, You were the one who is OCD about numbers and time while I was failing math and struggling to keep up, you should have known 14 and 27 are not compatible numbers. I once called you 3 minutes after I said I would and you ignores me for a week until I agreed to show you my **** to make it up to you. Our relationship consisted of petty arguments, razor blade insults, commands, and punishments when I didn't do as you asked. For example do you remember the time when I told you I didn't feel beautiful and you made me starve myself for three days and workout for two months, what about the time I told you I didn't want to have children till I was 20 and you told me no one would want me then and you'd never wait for my ****** to be ready to have a family. What about the times I tried to leave and you threatened to end your life, do you remember that? No... You probably don't. Because even when I close my eyes I can still see the half dozen emptied beer bottles on the floor of your ***** apartment in the background of the pictures of you with a gun to our head as you begged me to take you back. You told a 14 year old girl you put your life in her hands knowing they shook and trembled every time she heard your voice slur as you told her not to eat because she was fat or that it was her fault you beat her. you became the skeleton in my closet and the monster under my bed the ghoul peeking through the curtains and knife weilder in the laste nights. I became the dying flower in a glass jar, but unlike beauty in the beast every time a petal wilted to the ground like a tear sliding down y cheek you only got stronger. I was not your beauty, you didn't realize you were a beast. I don't know if I'll ever forgive you.

i try to look in the mirror before i leave but i barely recognize the face staring back. my skin looks too thin for my face and my eyes are not as bright as they used to be. i like the way my ribs ****** through the skin of my torso.

the party is loud and slightly sweaty and no one seems to mind much that i’ve barely said a word and i don’t mind either but i want to go home, home with my soft bed and the quiet dark of my room and home where i can be alone. a girl i haven’t talked to in months nudges me and yells over the music God youre such a ****** with her wide teasing smile as i eat a tortilla chip and she doesn’t know that all i’ve eaten in the past six days is half of a small apple, in tiny precise bites

she doesn’t know

outside it’s cold and sharp and i wish i’d worn a longer dress or a coat and the only one out there is james who sometimes stares at me a little too long. he’s smoking as usual and he passes it without a word. i’ve had a few too many drinks and soon we’re laying in the damp grass and im crying and i admit how hungry, how ******* hungry i am, and he’s very quiet until he kisses me helplessly and i can’t stop crying

it’s been over a year now and food is not my enemy anymore. we’re not friends but i can eat now and i let myself buy lunch a few weeks ago and i laughed along with everyone and didn’t think much about the calories passing my lips and it felt good

baby steps, baby bites

everything is becoming okay

There's one "special" Holiday, in the **** can I will toss
The Pagan Calibration, of fricking Santa Claus
-
If that ****** Bozo, down my chimney tries to come
I’ll blow his *** away, and beat it like a drum
-
Then I’ll shoot his Reindeer, I’ll have a jolly feast
Hey Rudolf Dancer Prancer, you will be deceased
-
All the Queerass little elves, I’ll blow away as well
And that stinking slay, I will go and sell
-
To the North Poll I will go, with an Atom Bomb
500 megatons!! And drop it with aplomb
-
December 25th, from the calendar I'll wipe
And all the goody-goody "Good Cheer", and all the Farceass Hype

{If you are getting the notion that I don't like Christmas, you are right! Why? I think it's blasphemous to associate the birth of Christ with a Pagan Holiday} {AND the way it's celebrated !!!}

Poetry is for those losers
Who understand life better than you
When you're ripping up their paper
And stealing their lunch food

Poetry is for that loser
You pushed down the stairs yesterday
Who wasn't and isn't at school anymore
Because the hospital's trying to fix the breaks

Poetry is for those losers
You beat down with all your friends
Who you threaten not to tell anyone
Or you'll make sure that they can't

Poetry is for that loser
Whose slicing up their skin
Who you laugh at daily
Until they go and cut again

Poetry is for those losers
Who won't eat a single bite
Because you always call them a "******"
And they cry through the hunger at night

Poetry is for that loser
Who always makes straight A's
Whose homework you steal and shred
Until they can't salvage their grade

Poetry is for that loser
The one that always cried
The one you least expected
To commit suicide

"What a ****
You're a waste of space
Selfish brat
No one will ever like you
Ugly ******"

Words escalated after I said
"I'm a bit cold"
in 30 degree weather
Wearing a thin long sleeve..
Words from my own mother

I would like for her to repeat those phrases after she's
seen me throwing up every "snack" I've eaten in 3 days

Have her watch me cry and shake in the bathtub while slitting my wrists because a blade hurts way less than her words

Have her watch me spend hours looking at thinspo and
"how to be perfect" websites for self expectance because she's torn me down too far

I want her to watch me talk to the people at school because she sees me as the hammer I smash my ribs against with; but truly, I am gentle

I am petrified to raise my hand in class because I am so scared to mess myself up... Mommy said it was wrong to mistake.
I will cry in a bathroom stall for hours if a girl DARE tell me she thinks she doesn't look good enough for the world today because that's how I feel with reminders every hour
But,
Maybe I am selfish
Selfish to keep myself away from human engagements for so long
But mommy says it's for the better
Better if I stay away

The words I've learned to trust so much
It's the words that stab me over and over
Those words are the reason I cannot accept a compliment or state my thoughts aloud

Feeling far worse than suicide.
Self harming
Burning
Carving
Words hurt more
Her words hurt most

And now mommy might know
Why there is a tear stained note waiting for her in her bedroom tonight
And she might feel just a bit of pain
As I did everyday

Goodbye mom, I thought I loved you.

stringy hair and mixed up feelings
too much makeup and healing scars
no time to worry about capital letters
when im concerned for my health

financial aid and stress management
my dad likes the army a lot
my mom wants me to go to savannah
so she can visit the beach

My brother thinks im a ******
who cant roll out of bed
and maybe I could stand
to work out some

im a bit of a narcissist
**** how do you spell narcissist
anyway, im an attention *****
and ill tell you your pretty to hear you tell me I am too

but don't tell anyone
theyd say "no! youre nice."
im a *****
stop being a sycophant

Don't tell me im pretty
someone should slap me
I abuse everyone who loves me
because I like that I can

stop letting me
tell me off
or don't
because I like this power

but that's beside the point
im rambling about myself again
narcissism
its a problem

Daddy says don't swear
then tells me im not worth ****
but not in those exact words
irony all the same

and wouldn't they like to know
im not so innocent
11 years old in the mouth
but I know my way around a man

My friends don't suit me
I hate all of their jokes
I hate myself when im with them
and I hate them even more

they may read this
less bridges to burn I suppose
extra matches to light on your sandpaper hands baby
god I love those hands

the only person I never hate
and the only person I always love
I don't know how you did it
but I love you and all your fantastical clichés

this poem is long now
no one will bother to read
a long poem about
a boring girl and how shes a two faced *****

I hope this message
gets across

I feel so sick
I don't know what to do anymore
I never feel good about myself anymore
I feel like I look like a ****** twenty-four seven
I feel like I never look good
Even when someone tells me I'm pretty, I never believe it
I feel so ugly
I feel so fat
I feel like I can't ever do anything right
I've tried to push my disorder down and hide it
But I can't do that anymore
I eat till I feel sick
When I feel sick I let that feeling go away in the toilet or shower
I throw up until there is nothing left inside me
I still feel sick after that
I feel like my parents will find out
I don't look sick but I feel sick
I don't want to feel sick anymore
I need help
But I can't ask for help
Then my parents and family will find out that something is wrong with me
Why do I have to be sick?

To all the skinny girls who think they are fat, I want to ask you a question. When was the last time you saw a dress you wanted, but you couldn't wear it because it was way too small? When was the last time your arm jiggled and drooped to where you can grab a fistful of skin? When have you seen stretch marks litter your skin? When have you had to take off stockings because your thighs rubbed a hole in them or because you got a bad burn? When have you been able to hold your own stomach? Yet some of you will say try exercising if you don't love your own skin. When you're chunky like me, you can't because you get ridiculed. The jerks will say "run faster ******!", "Ew hide your ugly *** from me", "look at that thing trying to exercise". People ridicule you when you stay fat AND when you're trying to lose it. They still judge you, yet some will admire you. However it's the same everywhere. It's almost like a common plague that haunts you. Then you turn to food because food doesn't judge you. Food makes you feel safe. Yet it isn't. It's killing us as well. Nowadays you are scared of food because of what's in it. Why don't you get liposuction or other weight loss surgeries? It doesn't solve the problem, it's a temporary thing that can easily go back to original and even worse when you don't do exercise. Leading to another viscous cycle of people judging you again. To those of you who have lost weight and changed your lives, congrats you made it. To those of you who judge us, at least stop doing it when we're trying to change it and exercise. To those skinny girls who think they're fat, a lot of us wish we can be you and wish we can wear those dresses or clothes you wear. To us obese women, you can change your life if you want to. I apologize when I say fat. It's just that it's a word that will continue to hang onto us. It's your choice but someone needed to say this to inform others. Someone needed to be a voice to this problem. I'm tired of inconsiderate people who makes fun of us. I'm tired of idiots trying to pull us down. So good luck to you all and may we finally shed some light onto the blind people that refuse to see our own problems. I apologize if I offend anyone, I don't mean to. I just want you all to see that there is a problem.

I try so hard for you
You don't try hard enough back

I hurt so bad because all I've wanted
is to be good enough for you.

You don't stand on a busy street corner in the middle of downtown
and scream, "you're such a ******."

Well lucky for you I already know.

I'm trans and its not because of my sisters boyfriend.

You scream at me for things that you told me I could do

Dyeing my hair? What's the big deal?

You're as transparent as ******* saran wrap.

Parenting crap? Oh yeah you don't want any of that.

Get up. And get the **** out of my life because I will get better and I can't do that if you're here.

Sometimes I let my mind wander
And sometimes
It leads itself into
Voids of despair,
All on its own.
It'll find a thought,
And stay nestled in its cold
Embrace,
Thoughts like,
"He's done with your ******* and doesn't love you," (my personal favorite and current one- it always gets me)
"Everything is going to go to ****,"
"******,"
"Idiot,"
"There's no point for you to live."

But I always climb out.
I just...
Sometimes lose a limb or two,
And stay for a bit longer than necessary.

as i sit here, typing the way i learned how to in the fourth grade,
i feel my head being weighed down by my thoughts.
i'm scared to get on the scale because they surely have doubled my body weight, crushing my confidence between their thunder thighs.
it takes a lot of self-persuasion to convince myself that i am not made up of numbers.
i am not the amount of bones in my body,
i am not the result of a test,
i am not what i dial into my phone just to hear your voice mail recording,
i am not the numbers on the scale.
three digits are terrifying, two bring solace to my night.
but do they really?
are two digits enough to stop the thoughts in my mind from running before my body catches up?
"******". "obese". "huge". "disgusting".
how can TWO DIGITS get rid of these thoughts?
newsflash: they can't.
two digits don't do as much as i used to hope.
my body is finally keeping pace with my mind and i'm realizing that there is more to life than numbers.