The Coming of Age

When I was seven, I loved to create! I would dance and sing and draw until late. My dining room table was a place just to paint, There were no feelings of dread, no feelings of hate. Then I turned nine and I started to see, That the girls all around were far thinner than me. I would notice that thought, allow it to flee, How I wish I had known what was going to be. When I turned thirteen, a teenager no less, I struggled to squeeze in my ill fitting dress. I tugged at my skin and I started to cry, "I've eaten today" It starts off with a lie. Then I was fifteen, my eyes a black pool, Not a thought in my head about going to school. I focussed my eyes on my child-sized plate And thought "God, was it this small when I was just eight?' Once I turned sixteen, I was seven no more. Now I was a name on a hospital door, Hooked up to machines that showed heart rate... Slow. My temperature falling, My blood pressure low. Now I am twenty, my thoughts aren't so strong, "Why was I cruel to my body this long?", I sit at the table, The first time in a while. And instead of my tears, I manage a smile.