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Ellie May Broadstock Poem
I am the winter, '97,
A snow storm rising,
Armageddon.
Yet, I am the autumn's call,
A gentle breeze,
The orange fall.
Still, my swirl of auburn leaves,
Turn carbon black,
Beneath the trees.
And though I crave the summer's kiss,
My dreams belong
To icy bliss.
I am the storm cloud in it's prime,
My heart and soul
Is wintertime.
Copyright © Ellie May Broadstock | Year Posted 2017
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Ellie May Broadstock Poem
It's me, it's me!
I'm not what you say,
Can you not see?
I do not look that way!
No! Please don't go!
I swear I'll try harder!
Please, don't you know
that my thoughts will stray farther?
It's so very dark.
My stomach is churning.
I feel something... A spark?
I think that I'm learning!
This voice was my friend,
It must now meet it's end.
Copyright © Ellie May Broadstock | Year Posted 2017
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Ellie May Broadstock Poem
Smooth caress of sun,
The petals, how they wither,
Winter, embrace me.
Copyright © Ellie May Broadstock | Year Posted 2017
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Ellie May Broadstock Poem
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.
Copyright © Ellie May Broadstock | Year Posted 2017
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