What Pretty Girls Are Made Of


The only company I have,
is the thunder in my stomach.
But I like it that way.
I'm Sick, Aren't I?
The mirror on the wall,
she's ruthless to her victim.
I'm so bad at math,
but numbers are all I think of anymore.
My body burns like hellfire,
and somehow I'm fragile.
How can something so weak burn with such intensity?
She grabs a hold of me,
like a mother grabs her child.
I'm so tired all the time,
everything is cold.
I'm sick, aren't I?
Waking up in the morning hurts now.
I picked up smoking,
Camel Crush is my poison.
I'm sick, aren't I?
Smokes & Diet Coke,
that's what pretty girls are made of.
Thinning Hair & Stomach Bile,
that's what pretty girls are made of.
Baggy Shirts & Dark Circles,
that's what pretty girls are made of.
The room is spinning.
I'm sick, aren't I?
So sick.
It never ends.
& I let her hit me.
I let her hit me until I hit the floor.
No one suspects a thing.
Oh, is that why you're on the floor of the supermarket?
No one suspects a thing.
Is that why you turn the water on every time you go to the bathroom?
NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING.
Is that why your mom is crying over the dishes?
NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING.
Is that how you ended up here?
I'm sick, Aren't I?
So sick.
It never ends.

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This Poems Story

When my Eating disorder got really bad, I passed out in the middle of a supermarket. This is a little poem about that day. That was the day I realized I was sick and I needed help.