It Can'T Help Her
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There are voices that tell women they are not beautiful. This is a sad reality for thousands perhaps millions or could it be billions. Even those who do not suffer with an eating disorder. Those who love you wish that you could see yourselves through our eyes. I wrote this poem after my wife told me that the more weight a sufferer of anorexia loses the fatter she feels. Somehow the disorder nick named "ED" disguises itself in the guise of a friend. For the purpose of my poem I call the eating disorder "it"!
"It" whispered strange somethings into her ear.
As she gazed intently into the mirror.
"Its" voice was soft yet "it" taunted her so.
She wished to flee "it" but where could she go?
"It" bathed her mind in "its" sulphuric stream!
Lies upon lies "it" became a bad dream.
A waking nightmare she could not escape.
Her skinny fat body, what a wierd shape!
The more weight she lost the fatter she felt.
"Its" voice stonger as spirit did melt.
"I'm your friend, I'll help you disappear!
"Come to my garden, you don't belong here."
She stopped believing what "it" had to say
When she went for help the "it" ran away!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
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