Some poetry I wrote a while ago....

I could tell you about my cracked lips

Or about how I want to feel bones under my hips

But I'm afraid that I'd probably close my eyes

And fantasise what it's like to not be alive

See, sometimes breaking free from my heart might be hard

(Despite feeling the warmth of lying in your arms)

The only thing I love more than you would be seeing my ribs

How my skin between them and my pelvis could dip

When the gap between my thighs could be bigger than my sighs

And how I could disguise myself in baggy jumpers and lies

I could just cut out carbs, probably for a day or two but

Eight days down the line, I'm lying to me as well as you.

I become so tired from this life that I try to free the demons inside

And that scissors on my thighs would make life an easier ride

But, sadly it can never be a perfect release

As I will always be slave to the scales that rest between my feet

And I have to be careful to not get in so deep because

I'm too young to be buried six-foot deep

I don't want my hair to get weak and my nails to snap

I don’t want to snap again

But it always starts with the hipbones, collar bones cheek bones

I try and tell myself that I'm more than skin and bone

But when you're battling yourself from the inside to out

The urge to scream and the urge to shout that

I'm better or stronger or something more

Is just…

Impossible.