In heaven she is free.
She is free of her mother’s sour criticism spewing from her mouth,
She is free of the sound a palm makes when it connects with her face,
She is free from the pointed stares; as if she doesn’t know she’s not a size zero.
In heaven she is free.
She is free of this urge to reach for a sharp object, just to know she’s still alive,
She is free of the bittersweet feelings when she sees her own blood drip to the floor,
She is free of the jagged marks lining her arms, replaced with fresh new skin coating the scars.
In heaven she is free.
She is free with clothes that don’t start with multiple x’s,
She is free from the hunger pangs ruling her life,
She is free from the f word; fat.
In heaven she is free.
She is free to have friends, not shunned in a corner hanging her head,
She is free to laugh not anxiously waiting for the sharp jab of peers to wipe the smile off her face,
She is free to be herself, something she could never be before.
In heaven she is free, she has escaped this life.
YOU ARE READING
My Attempts At Poetry
PoetryI am attempting to write poetry. Comments would be awesome, I hope you like it but I know I have a lot of room for improvement.
