Sitting on the cold bathroom floor,
goosebumps all over my body.
The urge is there,
I can't stop it.
I want to look in the mirror,
but I'm too scared.
I should not eat,
I don't deserve to.
I want to cut.
My body is shaking as tears roll down on my cheeks.
I thought I was getting better,
I really thought so.
Whenever it gets better,
I realize I don't deserve good things in my life.
I don't.
I don't deserve to eat,
to enjoy life,
to feel better.
As I breathe in,
I can see my ribs.
I shouldn't eat,
I don't deserve it,
I don't .
YOU ARE READING
Things I Write When It's Getting Worse
PoesíaTW: Suicide Attempts ED Self Harm Kinda poetry or not really honestly I don't care what you call it. Don't use this anywhere in anyway without consent.
