Whispers of the Soul

Anorexia

Counting Grains

In quiet kitchens, shadows loom,
Where scales and measures spell my doom,
A bowl of rice, a life defined,
By grains of white, my thoughts entwined.

I pour the rice, one grain, then two,
Each count a whisper, pulling through,
The rhythm thumps like a frantic drum,
A battle waged, I feel so numb.

Calories dance in frantic lines,
A ledger of shame, my heart confines,
Each bite dissected, weighed with care,
As joy dissolves into thin air.

A thousand numbers, spinning fast,
The echoes of hunger from the past,
Each scoop a story, each grain a scar,
A mirror reflecting who we are.

Restrained by rules that never cease,
I search for comfort, yet find no peace,
With every meal, a tighter grip,
In this silent war, I slowly slip.

The grains of rice, they taunt my mind,
With every measure, I'm redefined,
A cycle of control, relentless and cold,
A hunger for freedom that's yet to unfold.

I trace the lines of my weary fate,
Counting the grains, I contemplate,
What life remains when numbers reign,
When beauty fades beneath the pain?

Yet deep within, a flicker stirs,
A voice that whispers, softly purrs,
"Release the chains, let go the strife,
Embrace the chaos; reclaim your life."

So I gather strength to break this trance,
To dance with joy, to take a chance,
For life's not measured in grains or counts,
But in moments lived, in love that mounts.

Let rice fall free, let calories fade,
In the tapestry of life, my heart's remade,
Counting grains will not define,
The beauty of a life divine.