One pound
Two pounds
Three pounds
Four.
Five pounds
Six pounds
Seven pounds
More.
The pants get looser
And the shirts get baggy.
The tank tops start sagging
And the people start staring.
"You've gotten so thin!"
"Do you eat a thing?!"
I'm not thin enough.
I don't eat a thing.
If I eat, it won't stay long.
Just a few more.
Just a few more.
A few more days of being fat.
A few more days 'til my tummy is flat.
A few more days of starving and purging.
A few more days of crying and hurting.
Just a few more days.
Just a few more days.
Just a few more days I could be dead.
Just a few more days I could find bliss.
Just a few more days 'till you can see a ghostly pale me.
Just a few more days 'till you can see a truly peaceful face.
In just a few days I could be dead.
In just a few days there might be a body devoid of my drug-contaminated blood.
In just a few days there might be a circle of bruises 'round my lifeless neck like a string of pearls.
In just a few days there will be a closed-casket funeral.
No one will want to see the hole in my skull.
In just a few days you can come home to a tub full of blood cocooning my unconscious body.
In just a few days you be forever rid of me.
For I will have lost the energy to keep my skeleton self alive.
Because like I said:
One pound
Two pounds
Three pounds
Four.
Five pounds
Six pounds
Seven pounds
More.
Ten pounds
Twenty pounds
Forty pounds
All is out the door.
No fat
No muscle
Just frail skin.
Just frail bones.
Just a few days I might still have my courage.
Yet, in just a few days I could be discouraged.
YOU ARE READING
Utterly Zero
RandomRandom bits of the more dark and disturbed part of my mind. I guess you could call it open verse poetry. *TRIGGER WARNING*
