Thin Enough I am standing in front of the mirror without a stitch on The age old question appears to me Like my image Am I thin enough? This question is warped like my body, My shell There is doubt in the question It clouds over the image of myself I wonder, is it the doubt, or the fuzzy dark lighting in this room That makes me feel skeletal, Like a black and white photograph. It is not enough And if I am not thin enough... I MUST become thinner. It is a law I have placed over myself, Between me and the mirror Society is dictating to me from my mirror And if I have to become thinner, You can be sure It will not be done in a healthy way I will not be toned; there will simply be less of me I won't eat (I hardly even hear this thought) The difficult part about this is that the less of me that there is Will still appear to me like flab It will not be toned The process begins all over again Until, What's this? I can see hollows close to my neck. I press into them I am doughy, My neck reacts as if that slight pressure will leave a bruise It might. I can feel my collarbone I can feel my fingers go almost right around it If I were a gymnast Maybe I could hang from it Light and free Almost as if I were flying through the air Maybe that's it; Yes, If I could hang from my collarbone Then I would be thin enough.
Reason for writing:
The possible mindset of a misconstrued weight psychology or philosophy.
An anorexic's thoughts? (Not the poet's.)
Birth sign: Aquarius
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