Spero
· Times read 14
Poetry

Hidden.

Hidden.

My body,

it's not something I like to see in the mirror,
It's not something I'm proud of,
The things they say they see, are all so hidden to me.
My body is just a vessel,
A home for my soul,
That I'd drop in a heartbeat only if I may;
My body is what I pray for to stop functioning, on dark dark nights, I sit and say;
I ask it to stop circulating,
On silent nights, after good grubs,
I want it to stop working.
Being hungry scares me,
I can't look food in the eye;
Eating hurts me, nourishment is something I'd shy.
Often all I see in the mirror, are just flaws,
I'm the kind of women who, from who the beauty is hidden.
Voices echo, my head tells me to starve,
I'm scared of hunger, I'm scared I may never be able to stop.
I'm quintessential, I tell myself,
I need to eat I remind,
I'm scared, I'm scared however, I'm scared to be a shadow, the shadows in my mind however,
The shadows in my mind they thrive.

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I write what I cannot live alone; The words arnt a part of me, the words are me.

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