My body is my shell.
Broken, dammaged, concave within.
My shell is empty yet it looks so full.
Overflowing, brimming with sin.
I want to be small, I want to be skinny.
Im starving myself, my light is dim.
I want to die and I'm getting weaker.
The doctor says "no hope for him".
My bones stick out and i feel happy.
Sooner or later the guilt sets in.
"Oh well," I think.
At least now I'm thin...
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poems by me
PoetryJust a bit of poetry I've written over a few years so dont judge it too harshly. Plus it does get better as you go on (in my opinion). PLEASE LOOK AT THIS BEFORE READING!!!! If you know me in real life and choose to read this please dont show people...
