𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞
trying to get better is so difficult when i miss the old body i still have.
a weight has been lifted but now i am being crushed by a heavier one, the guilt and the voice keeps getting louder and louder tormenting me it will always be there in the back of my head clawing away at my corneas like a gremlin and chewing sections of my brain that im trying to heal.
i am a crazed lunatic obsessed with a stupid number, life defined by numbers, everyone is a number, i am not a human being i am a number.
m̶y̶ b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶s̶ a̶r̶e̶ a̶b̶n̶o̶r̶m̶a̶l̶
you're a number.
i̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶s̶ t̶o̶ s̶i̶t̶ d̶o̶w̶n̶
you're just a number.
m̶y̶ h̶a̶i̶r̶ i̶s̶ f̶a̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶u̶t̶
you're just a fucking number.
m̶y̶ t̶e̶e̶t̶h̶ a̶r̶e̶ e̶r̶o̶d̶i̶n̶g̶
you're just a FUCKING number.
i̶ c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ s̶l̶e̶e̶p̶
YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING NUMBER.
YOU ARE READING
𝟗𝟗 𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒔 | ✔
Poetry"𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞." dishevelled, shameful poems in eating disorder recovery. © teething 2023