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i sit alone, and stare at myself,

through a mirror of food.

the only dignity i have left,

i eat away every night.





the beginning seems too far now.

only a distant memory of the past.

i can taste the peices of tasteless

discusting food slide down my throat,

i can barely swallow.

the rest makes its way down the side of my mouth.



i wish i could go back again,

and feel the crimson droplets

slide down my limbs.

its all too distant now

this fullfillment within myself.



i tell myself this will change.

i tell myself not to cry,

atleast it doesnt physically-hurt...

i tell myself the pain will go away,

and everything will be better again.