My pillow's soaked, my eyes are red.
All these thoughts jumbled in my head.
The tears keep coming, they follow the pain.
For in this Hell is where I remain.
My face is tear-stained, my body can't feel.
So now I take comfort in this tiny pill.
Just to be thinner is all I want to be.
A size 7 doesn't work. I want to be a 3.
I don't care what it takes -- I won't even eat.
Because just like everyone else, I have a dream.
The dream of perfection. It's one little goal.
To love myself and body as a whole.
It's been days since I've eaten, and I'm so very weak.
No matter what I do, my body won't shrink.
I'm so very frustrated, what do I do?
Is it so much to ask, to wear a size 2?
Just to be perfect, is all I want anymore.
But I'm getting closer, I'm down to a 4.
My legs are fragile, I can barely move.
But I'm not eating until I'm down to a 2.
My family is worried, my friends are in fear.
But it all equals out, because we cry the same tears.
Just to look at this food...it feels like a sin.
I don't care what it takes, I just want to be thin.
I passed out today, the 4th time this week.
My family is worried and my friends won't speak.
The doctors tell me there's nothing they can do.
I don't care though, since I am wearing a 2.
Today was the first day I've eaten in so long.
Who knew a little girl could be so strong?
My body wouldn't function, my heart began to fail.
My hair's falling out and I'm so very pale.
I died with a smile, what can I say?
65 pounds is all that I weighed.
I know what I did was also a sin.
But to wear a size 2, I'd do it again.
Note: The email link to the left is that of Amanda Gier, the webmaster of this site, not the author of this poem. If you want to contact the author, please check the contact information below the author’s name. Also, for all those who click on the "Sign My Guestbook" link, you are signing a guestbook for my entire site, not for this poem. So if you wish to make a comment about this specific poem, please include the title so I know which one you are talking about.
