ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
"mirror, mirror, on the wall
who's the fairest of them all?"
i whispered to my doleful reflection,
but this was no fairy tale:
this was a small town on a cold, foggy night.
my skeleton was so beautiful
i wanted to showcase it,
give onlookers a glimpse of my impending
death through my very flesh.
i could picture myself, edges carved away
like a cored apple.
i just wanted to feel real.
everyone around me chewed and swallowed so easily
but i just gnawed on my lip until i
tasted blood, and let
a piece of myself die.
the flavor made my mouth water
as my stomach ground out hoarse
requests for expansion, for meaning.
i held nothing within but pathetic yearning,
hollow with self-hatred.
i could only feel affection with pain.
perfection became my obsession,
consuming me alive the way i would have
loved to consume anything at all.
some part of me believe i could be a super model,
and living my life on ambition and emptiness
was the way to do it.
every day i watched the little numbers
on the bathroom scale plummet.
now, you see, i can't stop it.
only air enters my lips, too light, too light.
they tell me i'm beautiful,
that i belong on elle and vogue,
but they never spoke such words
when i was healthy.
this addictive disease will overtake me.
it holds my death in its hands like dice:
winner take all.
my body is paper, twisted like a cage,
and i've no choice but to go down with this ship.
tonight, i heard nothing but my dinner plate
yelling at me for what i have done.
i took my silverware and stabbed into my enemy,
watched the fragments divide: mitosis.
now i'm beautiful,
now i'm fit for magazines,
a flawless living cadaver.
well, at least i'll look gorgeous
on the day of my funeral.
who's the fairest of them all?"
i whispered to my doleful reflection,
but this was no fairy tale:
this was a small town on a cold, foggy night.
my skeleton was so beautiful
i wanted to showcase it,
give onlookers a glimpse of my impending
death through my very flesh.
i could picture myself, edges carved away
like a cored apple.
i just wanted to feel real.
everyone around me chewed and swallowed so easily
but i just gnawed on my lip until i
tasted blood, and let
a piece of myself die.
the flavor made my mouth water
as my stomach ground out hoarse
requests for expansion, for meaning.
i held nothing within but pathetic yearning,
hollow with self-hatred.
i could only feel affection with pain.
perfection became my obsession,
consuming me alive the way i would have
loved to consume anything at all.
some part of me believe i could be a super model,
and living my life on ambition and emptiness
was the way to do it.
every day i watched the little numbers
on the bathroom scale plummet.
now, you see, i can't stop it.
only air enters my lips, too light, too light.
they tell me i'm beautiful,
that i belong on elle and vogue,
but they never spoke such words
when i was healthy.
this addictive disease will overtake me.
it holds my death in its hands like dice:
winner take all.
my body is paper, twisted like a cage,
and i've no choice but to go down with this ship.
tonight, i heard nothing but my dinner plate
yelling at me for what i have done.
i took my silverware and stabbed into my enemy,
watched the fragments divide: mitosis.
now i'm beautiful,
now i'm fit for magazines,
a flawless living cadaver.
well, at least i'll look gorgeous
on the day of my funeral.
Literature
Do not be ashamed of who you are.
At one point in your life,
you didn't mind being a girl.
It was only after you met
her that you thought, "Maybe
this isn't the right fit." Because,
if you're being honest, she
deserves a knight in shining armor.
You are not Atlas, my dear.
Your shoulders do not
merit a world of troubles,
but instead love-lined clouds
that whisper, "Do not be
ashamed of who you are."
A woman can be a
champion whose heart burns
with more gold than a king's
castle holds. Perhaps if
you had more faith,
you might find that's just what
she needs.
Literature
an apology to anyone who'll listen
It begins with a wish
and ends with a sigh.
I am in love with boys who
don't exist and girls who I sometimes
pretend are myself. Spineless,
spiteful, and one hundred percent
sporadic,
I'm becoming undone.
When I was
younger I thought it
was a sin if
your parents didn't
love each other. Now I
know that it's
just the way this world works.
And hell,
I need you right now;
to tell me that
gaining four pounds in
three days is typical
to tell me that
living in a dream every
second is perfectly okay
to tell me that
I'm normal, that I'm
still sane, that I'm not
going to close
Literature
No rest for a weary heart.
Yesterday my mother asked me what I
would name my children and I told her that
I did not want any. She scoffed at me
and shook her head, insisting
that once I found the
"perfect man"
all of that would change.
And I thought back
to all the times when my palms
sweated and my throat ran dry
and my cheeks heated up just because
a girl walked by whose lips
were so pretty and pink that all I wanted
to do was taste them.
"No,"
I replied, swallowing the acid
that was threatening to crawl out of
my mouth,
"it will take a lot more than that
to convince me."
Because despite the fact that
the mere thought of a man
with arms that could carry the we
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Trigger warning: eating disorders, anorexia
I've never had an eating disorder, but I've seen how it affects people. I apologize deeply if this offends anyone. It's not my intention to glamorize eating disorders. I want to bring to light the way society makes everyone feel bad about themselves. In all honesty, it scares the living hell out of me. It's something that really saddens me, that this world is so mess up people will hurt themselves and even kill themselves to fit into a standard of beauty.
I've never had an eating disorder, but I've seen how it affects people. I apologize deeply if this offends anyone. It's not my intention to glamorize eating disorders. I want to bring to light the way society makes everyone feel bad about themselves. In all honesty, it scares the living hell out of me. It's something that really saddens me, that this world is so mess up people will hurt themselves and even kill themselves to fit into a standard of beauty.
This poem is dedicated to anyone who has ever struggled with an eating disorder, or anyone who has watched a loved one go through it. It's dedicated to anyone who's ever felt ugly, and anyone who ever considered doing something terrible to feel better. You're all beautiful in your own way, and you're all beautiful to me.
© 2013 littleblueraccoon
© 2013 - 2024 littleblueraccoon
Comments80
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Getting compliments on weight when going through eating disorders make things even worse...
It was harsh. But that is a part of it.
I would write beautiful if it didn't write about horrid things.
Though it describes how I feel and felt.
And you know, you're a good writer from what I can see here
It was harsh. But that is a part of it.
I would write beautiful if it didn't write about horrid things.
Though it describes how I feel and felt.
And you know, you're a good writer from what I can see here