She was ten years old
Her dad left her for a girl barely twice her age
Her mom lost at the bottom of a whiskey bottle
Her sisters left for boys and dusty bookshelves
No one left to watch her grow
Twelve rolled around
She couldn't remember how to smile
It had been so long
Since she had a friend
A group
A clique
Always left to walk those dreaded middle school halls alone
At fourteen
She was depressed
Cutting every night
And skipping meals
Just to ease the pain
By sixteen
She weighed barely eighty
Fragile and frail
No one around to tell her that
'You are beautiful'
In came eighteen
Her mother lost in a world
That's two feet wide and six feet deep
Because she tried drowning her demons in drink
Forgetting they knew how to swim
Twenty.
Her turning point.
She'd had enough
Had enough of it all
Of the hunger for life
As she feeds death
In and out of hospital
Slowly reknowing a healthy weight
And watching the scars fade away
Still fighting to stay alive
In a world that leaves her only wanting death
YOU ARE READING
A Story Told, But Never Really Heard
PoesíaThis is me. With no boundaries I reveal myself and hopefully save myself. I'm not sure whether I am writing this for you, or for me, but I hope it makes an impact none the less.
