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Anorexia - Behind the looking Glass
“A mastermind in disguised by the sins of shattered glass, luring you in by its reflections, leaving you with painful thoughts, false confidence and shame. Your wasting away as time is coming short, pretty soon all that will be left of you is the remains of your bones.”
she once lit up
like fearless skies,
then she grew up
to her own demise.
Carried burdens
of many storms,
flooded fears
that noone knows.
Ran countless times
but all she found,
Is nowhere to hide
Only one way out
Despite her screams for help
She wastes away, never good enough.
The mirror is all she has,
With tainted words and toxic love,
her voice comes forth
"say what you mean,
I will not hurt,
I’m a human being,
the mirror before you,
covers thee.
As I show myself through this mirror,
you'll never see...see the real me"
Look at her,
But a scarred reflection
and all you'll ever see.
Stale image, mixed emotion,
reminded by failures
day after day.
Satisfied, in control,
her body wastes away.
Hiding behind isolation
eyes hollow, lifeless,
Slowly headed six feet under.
It’s for the best,
lost, confused, mad.
If you never cared, why do you now?
The pain is real, she's nearly dead...
Afraid of her own skin,
her voice is but a whisper.
As her body's slowly weaken,
Her suicide?...her murder?
such obsession becomes her poison?
“But I’m the perfect version,
Of what’s on your television”
her reflection, her mask, her disguise,
Desperate for perfection.
You can’t see behind her eyes,
lost herself in flawed attraction.
So she cuts the fat away,
continued cycled of only guilt.
Releasing tears of shame,
and always misunderstood.
Will she ever get to 80 pounds?
This her blessing in disguise.
“Question is will I stop if at that point,
it’s time to try.”
Trauma, abuse, neglect, anxiety.
The times she asked for help, no one listens,
secrets hidden from her family.
The mirror is all that understands,
she promises to get better.
Doing the best she can,
her soul shines true of her nature.
Despite she can barely stand.
A journey heads to broken bones
unless she finds help and love.
One by one, everyone knows it's
too late now, it’s not enough.
Her reflection has come off distorted,
as her mind is infected, sickened.
She’s just a broken girl
living in a heartless world.
TV, news, society,
everywhere around you and me,
bullying is the sin we live in
is there any way to win?
Ashamed of her body,
everyone can see,
the people that loved her
aren’t there anymore.
It’s her ultimatum,
they don’t realize it’s not even her fault,
you don’t even know the scars on the inside.
She wants the help, she can’t stop if she tried,
her diets counting calories in weight.
She knows it’s not normal, she feels only of hate.
It's the silent of killers.
Strips you of your confidence,
preys on the helpless and weak.
Bringing doubt, shame, and fear.
Don't be fooled by its reflection,
Its a distraction of the truth.
Her silenced reflection
Now hidden with pain.
Prisoner behind this glass,
Bones buried in a grave
Will you come to the service,
Or ask of her name,
Or will you say?
“It’s that girl in skeleton bones”
Or maybe she’ll be remembered again.
Nobody knows what a person has gone through.
So, stop the judgements! It’s wrong and you don’t have to
love her unconditional.
Bring warmth to her cold,
then tell her she's beautiful.
That use of words, what seems so little,
to a sickness can mean the absolute world.
Joanna Ryan-McDonald
she once lit up
like fearless skies,
then she grew up
to her own demise.
Carried burdens
of many storms,
flooded fears
that noone knows.
Ran countless times
but all she found,
Is nowhere to hide
Only one way out
Despite her screams for help
She wastes away, never good enough.
The mirror is all she has,
With tainted words and toxic love,
her voice comes forth
"say what you mean,
I will not hurt,
I’m a human being,
the mirror before you,
covers thee.
As I show myself through this mirror,
you'll never see...see the real me"
Look at her,
But a scarred reflection
and all you'll ever see.
Stale image, mixed emotion,
reminded by failures
day after day.
Satisfied, in control,
her body wastes away.
Hiding behind isolation
eyes hollow, lifeless,
Slowly headed six feet under.
It’s for the best,
lost, confused, mad.
If you never cared, why do you now?
The pain is real, she's nearly dead...
Afraid of her own skin,
her voice is but a whisper.
As her body's slowly weaken,
Her suicide?...her murder?
such obsession becomes her poison?
“But I’m the perfect version,
Of what’s on your television”
her reflection, her mask, her disguise,
Desperate for perfection.
You can’t see behind her eyes,
lost herself in flawed attraction.
So she cuts the fat away,
continued cycled of only guilt.
Releasing tears of shame,
and always misunderstood.
Will she ever get to 80 pounds?
This her blessing in disguise.
“Question is will I stop if at that point,
it’s time to try.”
Trauma, abuse, neglect, anxiety.
The times she asked for help, no one listens,
secrets hidden from her family.
The mirror is all that understands,
she promises to get better.
Doing the best she can,
her soul shines true of her nature.
Despite she can barely stand.
A journey heads to broken bones
unless she finds help and love.
One by one, everyone knows it's
too late now, it’s not enough.
Her reflection has come off distorted,
as her mind is infected, sickened.
She’s just a broken girl
living in a heartless world.
TV, news, society,
everywhere around you and me,
bullying is the sin we live in
is there any way to win?
Ashamed of her body,
everyone can see,
the people that loved her
aren’t there anymore.
It’s her ultimatum,
they don’t realize it’s not even her fault,
you don’t even know the scars on the inside.
She wants the help, she can’t stop if she tried,
her diets counting calories in weight.
She knows it’s not normal, she feels only of hate.
It's the silent of killers.
Strips you of your confidence,
preys on the helpless and weak.
Bringing doubt, shame, and fear.
Don't be fooled by its reflection,
Its a distraction of the truth.
Her silenced reflection
Now hidden with pain.
Prisoner behind this glass,
Bones buried in a grave
Will you come to the service,
Or ask of her name,
Or will you say?
“It’s that girl in skeleton bones”
Or maybe she’ll be remembered again.
Nobody knows what a person has gone through.
So, stop the judgements! It’s wrong and you don’t have to
love her unconditional.
Bring warmth to her cold,
then tell her she's beautiful.
That use of words, what seems so little,
to a sickness can mean the absolute world.
Joanna Ryan-McDonald
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