I don't fit.
If only it were that easy. If only I could go to a different store and find a better size. If only I could unzip this skin and find a better fit.
My body feels foreign as I move and stretch, watching my reflection in the mirror. This cannot be me. It can't be.
Because I do not have ******* today. I do not have a large, curvaceous body.
No. Today, I should have a flat chest. I should have muscular arms and stubble on my chin.
But I don't.
Instead I see who I once was. Who I was yesterday is not who I am today is not who I will be tomorrow. I want my current body.
I want the body that fits.

Tell me, my choice was not,
and never will be,
to hurt you.
I only hurt me.
You,
hold my hand.
Me,
gone with the wind, up the cliff, climbing that tree.
Help me.
I die , moonlight burns my bones.
Into ashes.
My soul sprinkled all over my bed sheets, i don't feel like getting up.
Oh, Sir, you have died.
A lot you gave me, do you see?
I am not what you left behind, I am nothing but a mere illusion of what I'm told to be.
I have to ask, will you be scared
of the monster,
life has turned me into?
By life, I mean,
people .
Will you all run away from the beast?
Will you stay until i eat what keeps you alive, and then leave?
Run.

Throwing daggers at the mirror
Hoping one might motivate me
Disgusted, hoping to be just a little more...
Just a little more...
Maybe then...
If I just...
I. Can't.

Nothing is going to satisfy self hatred
It takes and takes and is always wanting more
Funny thing that after a while we are left feeling like nothing
Not enough
Never enough
We believe it too

Eyes glued to our idea of what's "wrong" with ourselves
But what's really wrong is our eyes
Blinded by the lies of society

******* up her brain
******* up her soul
******* up everything she had ever owned
Locked up her only savior in a cell,
She’s hopeless now, there was no one else
She’s stifled in a cimmerian shell
with a nebulous heart conquered by thrashing bells
Erratic self-deleterious thoughts
A throat filled with uproar and frantic knots
This is what she has become, this is what you’ve made her
She didn’t know if you were the devil, or just the monster within her.

Waiting my turn in
----------------------------- line
for the golden star
from Self-Gratification.

Now to find the shortest aisle.

I always thought it was everyone else
Who hated me
But its me...
Im the only one who hates me

Those dreams of tomorrow are gone
The future was but a mistaken shadow
The fire burns ashes into this oken wall
It is now a trip, for me, through this black forest
Blacker, blacker, black the forest becomes
Lost, I am, in these living forests of ebony

Blackened trunks wall the muddy trails
A hall I journey into, nowhere to turn
I make my way down this endless tunnel
The living trees close the path behind me
Darker, darker, dark the tunnel goes
The further I venture, the less I may see

The trees reach their limbs to halt my path
The trees curl their roots to trip my step
When will this end? Is freedom an option for me?
Or do I lay down and die like the bodies before me?
Harder, harder, hard it is to trek these woods
Only black before me and only black behind

Here I sit, in this blackened hall of trees
Here, I'm alone, in this toil of misery
Here, I drink alone. Drown my sorrow
Here I cry, unheard by friendly ears
Here I scream, unknown by any man
Here I sit, in the Forests Of Ebony...

Gleefully you score pictures
on my white bones
with a sharp nail
and wipe Indian ink
into the minute
scratches.
I watch your scrimshaw emerge
with disinterest
until I see your artwork capture the
moment when an upturned hull
slips beneath the waves
to begin its long descent.
I recognise the ship
as that of which I had proudly
proclaimed myself captain

i hurt myself countless times today
but only this time not physically
i hurt myself like i won't stop thinking about the things that make me feel worthless
i hurt myself like i daydream about the boys that make me feel unsure of myself just when my confidence was starting to rise
i hurt myself like i let these feelings take over my mind completely so that whether or not i think i'm good enough is based on my assumptions of why everyone that momentarily makes me feel secure doesn't talk to me for a day or two
i hurt myself like i'm writing these ******* thoughts down on paper as if thinking deeper about it is going to do anything other than rip open old wounds
i hurt myself like i sabotage my own happiness because it's so easy to tear down what is just a light veil draped over all these years of self hatred and low self esteem that has built up so much it could reach the earths core
i hurt myself like i know i won't stop until i've convinced myself that i am nothing