deepundergroundpoetry.com
F. A. T.
F. A. T. is for every unfinished home cooked meal, lost to the toilet or the trash.
It is for every intrusive thought of cutting off my own skin, every vomit spell I ever had.
F. A. T. is for the nights spent on a stomach of nothing but water and broth.
It is for every time that word cut me open on the inside like sharpened daggers.
F. A. T. is for every time I slipped my fingers down my throat, for every slimfast diet I'd ever tried.
It is for the girl who died trapped inside of me, desperately trying to claw her way out.
It is for the times I was so hungry I couldn't even think straight, or the times I felt so dead I couldn't breathe.
F. A. T. is for every day on an empty stomach, every day spent dreaming of food that I willed myself not to have.
It is for the times I told myself i'd look prettier when I was thinner, and kept skipping dinner.
It is for every time I broke myself down, and told myself it was for my own good.
F. A. T. is a word that cuts like knives and a word that I have almost lost my life to,
It hurts me way deep down in my soul when I hear it, and it takes me to a place I don't like to remember.
It steals the air from my lungs, and the food from my stomach.
F. A. T. is a word that I have almost died for, a word that almost took my life.
It is for every intrusive thought of cutting off my own skin, every vomit spell I ever had.
F. A. T. is for the nights spent on a stomach of nothing but water and broth.
It is for every time that word cut me open on the inside like sharpened daggers.
F. A. T. is for every time I slipped my fingers down my throat, for every slimfast diet I'd ever tried.
It is for the girl who died trapped inside of me, desperately trying to claw her way out.
It is for the times I was so hungry I couldn't even think straight, or the times I felt so dead I couldn't breathe.
F. A. T. is for every day on an empty stomach, every day spent dreaming of food that I willed myself not to have.
It is for the times I told myself i'd look prettier when I was thinner, and kept skipping dinner.
It is for every time I broke myself down, and told myself it was for my own good.
F. A. T. is a word that cuts like knives and a word that I have almost lost my life to,
It hurts me way deep down in my soul when I hear it, and it takes me to a place I don't like to remember.
It steals the air from my lungs, and the food from my stomach.
F. A. T. is a word that I have almost died for, a word that almost took my life.
Published 4th May 2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
4th May 2021 6:59pm
Oh sweetheart I'm sorry you're going through this.
I hope writing this alleviates some of that hurt.
I hope writing this alleviates some of that hurt.
Anonymous
- Edited 23rd May 2024 11:45am
4th May 2021 7:17pm
<< post removed >>
I give this piece the respect and honor of all it's honesty. I too believe that it's important to try and relieve the mental pressures of the heaviest things that press down on us by writing them out. It's usually such a help for me, as well. I fully empathize from my own struggles, my dear poetess...and I hope you derived some catharsis, too. 🙏🏻
Like ethan said,
I hear you.
You're not alone.
I wholly appreciate your bravery in sharing with us.
Much love and I'm sending positive vibes your way.... ✨ 💫 ✨
🌹
xo - B
Like ethan said,
I hear you.
You're not alone.
I wholly appreciate your bravery in sharing with us.
Much love and I'm sending positive vibes your way.... ✨ 💫 ✨
🌹
xo - B
4th May 2021 10:40pm
