Outgrow
I swear to myself that I am better,
My skin fits like my favourite sweater,
I love it, I'm comfortable, I worked hard for that,
Until the scales tip, and I begin to crack.
Panicked and frantic, clawing at each thread,
Sewing scratches across my skin in lines of red.
Pinching pounds of flesh, filled with regrets.
The figures swelled so I don't deserve to be fed.
Looking in the mirror and tearing it to shreds.
Demanding that I must start again.
What once was a temple, is suffocating me,
I feel the throbbing in my temple as I struggle to breathe.
The fabric is stained in bleach and I'm no longer allowed to eat.
This sweater has no give, no elasticity,
There's no room for growth, or new stages.
I thought I had won this war that once again wages.
I thought I loved my body.
So why can't I accept it when it changes?
YOU ARE READING
Anxiety & Apathy: A Collection Of Poems
Poetry- A Collection Of Poems - I tear myself to pieces And hope to be whole. ⚠ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠ Contains imagery and subjects of: - Self harm - Suicide - Disordered eating - Mental illness
