Skinny Corpse.

I just wanted to be skinny.
Not the bony, skeletal type,
Enough though, to look good in a mini.
Long, slim, tanned and toned legs,
I pictured them every day,
I wished for them with the deepest longing, 
One that sucked into my very soul, 
Slowly, steadily, altering me.
In the beginning I never understood the anorexia hype,

Now it envelops my sick, deteriorating soul.

The size of my thigh gap excited me.

I just wanted to be pretty,
I never meant to give it control-
Over me, my life and what was in my breakfast bowl-
Or what wasn’t.

Security, thats it.
I wanted security over my figure,
To be known as fit,
But, people needed to comment for me to be sure.

And so they arrived,
Fresh waves tumbling over my radiance,
Invigorating and refreshing, it became how I survived.

Food no longer satisfied my hunger,
Peoples stares and wolf whistles did.

I wasn’t serious at first,
I thought anorexia was a game you could put away,
 But it came in, a rushing  tornado,
Strong, Fast, Grey,
Detremental.
Pandora’s Box was opened.

I didn’t know the sacrifice,
The currency you played with-
 My body and life were the price.
The coffin, the pretty flowers,
People cried, they thought they had lost me,
But in a twisted truthful reality, 
I left a long time ago. 

My body, was broken, skeletal, sick.
But in my mind, I saw what I wanted,
 petrifying beauty.

The tragedy is not my death, but the sad thought that I believe I died with dignity.
That is how the disease altered my existence,
Not only did my body die,
But the day I first threw up, I gave my soul away.
I just wanted to be skinny,
I didn’t want to die.
But the pain that i felt when I looked in the mirror,
Slaughtered my beautiful existence.
It slaughtered me.

The horrid truth is,
I was slim, I was beautiful, 
I was loved.

The box didn’t shut...
Maybe I wouldn’t shut it.
And for that,
Because I wanted to be called hot in tiny shorts,
 I am skeletal,
I am dead,
I am grey, 
I am a rotting Corpse.