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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
The human condition of wanting to be everything
I feel as though I am exhausting
The excess skin around
My eyes
They
h
a
n
g
in loose shadows
Across my cheekbones like
A wreath.
And whilst I find myself
unable
To draw open the blinds
Because the light
is too bright
And I really can’t handle
The pane of the sky
With its obnoxious
Blue
glaring at me
With such a joyful expression
I know that lately
I am burning myself out
That I consume one too many
Cans of soda and energy drinks
At 2.45 AM
When the rest of the world
Is static in a hushed
Comatose state
Whilst I frantically try
To achieve something
Because being
Average
Ordinary
Mundane
Is too
Literature
The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be
She speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
apologises
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
by ignoring
her beautiful words
and telling her to
shut up,
keep it down,
nobody cares.
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
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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
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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