Addiction

Thrust into a world where paired with beauty is pain,
“If its not hurting its not working”
You need to be sick to play the game,
Guilt incessantly lirking.

 What’s your fix?
Anorexia? Bulemia?
Perhaps it is a bit of a mix.

People see you as one...
Oozing opulence,
mingling with soigné crowds
Of utmost pertinence,
But not without your Opecac,

You are Beautiful,
Never looking back,
Greatest triumph is when you’re considered suitable.
But, when all is said and done,
This lifestyle is constringent,
The Toilet bowl has won,
Your plate is still untainted,

Your soul grated.

Sickly gags,
Consolidate yourself with the: “I’m skinny now” satisfaction.
Toothbrushes, index finger, upchuck in all the little bags.
Its your security.

Controlling fears,
Your life a grand fallacy.
Yes, the clothes are exquisite,
The shoes, expensive,
You pay with your health
Starving is the only deficit.

Yes I’m Beautiful,

Yes I’m skinny,

Yes you want to be me.

But honestly,

I’m Broken

I’m sick

I’m an Addict

Hanging over the sink,
Do I still ooze beauty?