Self abuse

Self abuse... I can't define.
The rush it gives me? I feel so out of line.
I can't quit now. I can't escape.
It's all I know. I've sealed my fate.

Who's to say I'll ever stop?
Who's to say I'll never stop?
The tears rush down my face,
and my heart begins to race.

Kick in the door. Scream at the toilet.
I don't need you. My face turns violet.
I can't hold back, the food needs to come out.
I heave and convulse. What's this all about?

I cannot bear, I cannot think.
When I walk down the street, the boys all wink.
I don't agree. I think I'm gross.
It's always the ones who flaunt it the most.

Yes, we who flaunt are insecure.
I crave the approval. My mind can't endure
the very thought thought of imperfection.
Kind of funny, though, it's like an infection.

I'll never recover, though I'll have my good days.
I'll have great long spurts where the pain is away.
The mental pain, that nagging voice.
Don't put that in your mouth. You'll get fat. Make the right choice.

It will always be there. It's the monster inside.
It screams and it claws. I cannot hide.
But I try hard and I stay strong.
Sometimes my good periods last very long.

I've gone 3 months without succumbing.
Don't get me wrong, the urge is mind numbing.
Sometimes I sing to try to avoid it.
Sometimes I just feel so exploited.