We
It's a long wait to wait alone,
A
long time to be on our own.
Waiting for someone to understand,
To
realize the things we do with our hands.
We don't want more of anything
inside us,
It's not a big deal or a new thing, we don't want
fuss.
We deserve the pain, we believe this,
you tell us we'll die
from it, we'll take the risk.
It gives us strength, it gives us
power,
but don't believe us, we are truthfully cowards.
We have no
control, we are just a mess,
This thing we have, it gives us more than
stress.
It's already suffocated the people inside,
If we have to
fight this alone, we might as well die.
If you love us and want us to
stay,
Help us, we beg you, and don't listen to the bullshit
the thing that's taking over says.
Leah
Note: this poem is about
bulimics
