I walk into the kitchen
Open the cupboards
Shut them, next is the fridge
My eyes scanning, searching
But no matter how hard I look
I know nothing will fill me up inside
It's not my stomach that's empty
So I walk back out
What's the point in eating
If it doesn't fill me up?
I'm not hungry anyways
It's been 8 days since I ate
I feel nothing, my body is weak
But my mind is strong
I don't want food anymore
I'm not hungry for food, only bones
I'm hungry for brittle nails
And that doctors sheet to read
"Anorexia nervosa"
"Patient deceased"
I'm hungry for perfection
I'm going to be perfect
And if it happens to kill me
So be it
I don't need to eat
Until I'm 100 pounds
Cause nothing fills me up
But maybe I'll be full
When I'm finally empty
YOU ARE READING
The dark abyss that is my mind: part one
PoetryDo you know that feeling? Nothing matters, nobody cares, life has no meaning. That feeling that you want to just give up? That all you do is use up space and annoy people? That everybody is better off without you? That's me everyday. Every single da...
