Anorexia Poems - Poems about Anorexia

He sits in the back. Not because he wants to— but because he’s tired of being picked last when he dares to show up at all. You don’t see him. Not really. He’s there, though— in the bathroom stall during lunch, because his gut’s staging a protest. IBS, the silent screamer, writhing beneath his ribs like worms made of fire. They say, “It’s probably just nerves.” As if nerves...

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A boy walks slow through halls of glass, His shadow flickers, thin as grass. Each step a secret, each breath a theft, Of hunger’s war and weightless heft. They whisper when they think he’s gone, “Is he okay? He looks withdrawn.” But laughter fades when backs are turned, And eyes like his are never learned. His plate remains a battlefield— Each bite a blade,...

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I stare timidly into the softly lit mirror, Its gaze staring back at me unrecognizable. I've been told this person is my friend, But its reflection paints a different picture. Its mixture mixes a mess of colors I never thought go together anyway. A bit ghostly. I trace its outline carefully - A bump here, a dent there, extra padding everywhere - So...

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"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress" - Daniel Henry Rodgers The hourglass, a skeletal jester mocks in the tomb's chill Each falling grain an emaciated sigh, "Soon you'll cease to be." The mirror's cold reflection, a Gorgon's ghastly guise A marionette of flesh with vacant... hollow... colorless eyes. The worms, like pallid mourners watch me shrink A marionette of organs, cold and pale,...

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growing pains... and so she grew, because that’s what we all do. she reminded herself that her body is her vessel. it does more than just exist for a compliment, for a boy, for a mirror or for a photo. she told herself that her size, and the tightness of her clothes were not indicators of failure. the fullness of her belly, would never determine her worth she found comfort...

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The Art of Being Empty I was baptized in the TV light of The Biggest Loser and worshipped a version of myself that I believed could go forty days without eating, like Jesus. I packed my lunchbox with a communion of teeth-whitening strips and cherry red lipstick. you’re only allowed to donate blood...

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Sometimes healing is messy It is a rollercoaster Ups and downs Sometimes I can handle it Other times I lose control I say I am in recovery for my bulimia But I still struggle I still consider pushing myself that extra hour in the gym I think skipping lunch that day won't hurt I sometimes spend too much time looking at teeth enamel...

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The soundless scream of my tortured pain, The story of which I cannot explain. Ashamed of my needs, yet I want them met, Manipulative, deadly, pointless threat. Blind is the audience, macabre is my dance, Forced to perform by a body in trance. Those gilded rays that pierce the skies, Striking gold clouds that light up our eyes, Lancing their radiance down...

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My colourful soul is seeping through my skin But Ana is a beauteous monster And I cannot stop letting her in. Someone get a doctor, She’s stuck inside my head And if I don’t get her out, I’m sure to wind up dead. Her voice it makes me shout And cry out in pain. When I am offered food, She makes me seem insane. I am...

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A letter about my friend Ana She stood tall, skeletal, and proud Her glowing locks choking those that were drawn too close, Her blinding smile removing the vision of anyone who dared to smile back She scared me, But being scared is better than not feeling at all And having someone is better than having no one, So I followed her. One...

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“Mommy, mommy!” I desperately scream at 4, longing for comfort in her welcoming arms. We are watching a film about the circle of life. The movie showed the sheep at birth all the way to its final stages. Snot puffs out of my young nostrils like the smoke in grandma’s cigarette. My heart is...

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Night I am cold, though viscera burning, I have pierced on a spit my torso turning. Supposedly decomposing, et cetera; words as per usual, concerning; Do suggest a plethora, array, of conjured synonyms. Inspire in me apathy, disinterest; say, so that I can find Sleep. But once darkness fell, I peeked under my pillow for it, and it was not...

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She was called "fat" They told her she's above of what she should be at. The drive and confidence was something that she lacked. She was 13 when she became anorexic. Starving herself of her dignity and happiness, she watched herself as her reflection disappeared in a spoon and she succumbed to the nothingness. He was 11 when he was...

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I mark the days I failed to starve up on my wrist in tallies. It's gotten to the point where I have almost ran out of room to count the times I’ve inflicted pain to punish myself for being human. When I get hungry, I remind myself of the blood on my scissors I use...

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The scale starts to call and I cannot resist; constantly drawn to my biggest fear. The painful number that I see, never leaves my mind. Every day. Every minute. Every second. She never stops - this voice inside my head. She speaks to me. She yells at me. So hurtful; the words that she says. I...

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