Deception is not in her hazel eyes
That weep spiteful tears
It's all in her mind.
She critisises the giant, ugly shape she sees,
A real reflection shows her arms thin as twigs,
hip bones protuding, bones razor-sharp,
Careful, she might blow away in the wind.
She better watch her step, she might snap.
Her strength is a weakness,
Her fasts last longer, she fights a battle with her enemy:food.
Surving a whole day without it
Her biggest achievement
She defeated her hunger, long ago
Each pound lost, more of her soul erodes away
Fast weakening metabolism, deterioating spirit
Her friends and family worry,
They reach out in hope of saving her.
She pushes them out.
How can they understand?
The work, the endurance, it took to lose all the ugliness, the vileness, the fat?
Can't they see is is on her way to becoming beautiful?
Obsession has taken over in her mission
Striving for perfection, acceptance in her mind.
She wants to be the envied one,
she wants to be a thin as the models in her magazines.
Her conscience is starving.
Her body is crumbling.
I wrote this based on my own perceptions of how it would feel to be an anorexic. I myself was close to becoming one a couple of years ago, as I went through a phase of extreme control with my exercise and food, resulting in a becoming very underweight. I wouldn't consider myself anorexic though because now I'm more the other way. My problem is that I eat too much, rather than too little. I'd love to be able to say i have a healthy relationship with food. But I can't yet.