Thoughts From A Victim

I can't describe it,

Your mother's words,

"Please eat for me,"

I gave in every time,

But now I can't, I won't.

Because eating is letting you win.

I'd rather my body grow slimmer,

My bones get weaker,

The hunger pains get worse,

Than let you win ever again.

It's not about my body,

This is about the constant arguments,

In my head.

Eating is losing,

I can't let you win this war,

When you've already won every battle.