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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #1273408
"Mia" is code for Bulimia, it personifies the disorder.
I hate you.
You told me I was fat.
My personality's slowly dying
because of that spurious fact!

You said I'd be perfect
if I was a smaller size.
Stupidly I trusted you;
I blindly closed my eyes.

I guess you lied, it doesn't matter,
the damage has now begun.
I chose this problem, this addiction,
and the past can't be undone.

Food became my enemy
while you became my friend.
My normality was warped
following you around that bend.

When I finally opened my eyes,
stopped fixating on my weight,
I found that everything I loved
began to reflect my hate.

You're everywhere I look;
you're everywhere I go.
Why I choose to listen?
I really do not know.

You said they were jealous
when people asked "What's wrong?"
You said I wasn't losing weight;
you said I wasn't strong.

You said I didn't have a problem;
you made me think so, too.
You said you wouldn't hurt me,
apparently that wasn't true.

They know about us now
and tell me to forget you,
but no one can tell me how
and you affect everything I do!

I wish you never met me;
I hope you've had your fun.
Even though I can't stop,
I don't want you to be done.

I do admit that I am sick,
not all because of you,
and while I really want to stop,
it's something I can't do.

Maybe size isn't perfection;
Maybe you're right starvation is.
I'm trying to follow the truth,
but I've forgotten what it is.

You preyed on my weakness,
my vulnerabilities.
You quickly took control,
and brought me to my knees.

I can no longer sing.
I am losing all my hair.
My stomach always hurts,
and you really just don't care.

If we make a bargain,
just between us two,
Will you honor it?
Is that something you'll do?

If I always listen,
if I am always with you,
if I never try to leave you,
will you not find someone new?

I think I might still need you
and I don't want you to leave.
I don't want you to give up
after stealing my life from me.

I don't want you to move on,
leave me all alone and scared.
Even though you hurt me,
at least I know you care.

You want me to be perfect,
clean bones under pale skin,
self-controlled and free of need.
Mind calmed under starvation zen.

You're trying to make me happy,
except in the wrong way,
and maybe if you stay,
I will be some day.

Because I know one thing,
that here you aren't free,
You can't find someone else
and hurt her like me.

© Copyright 2007 Gabrielle (iamanelvenbard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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