A stub to the toe,
now a missing leg.
Self-destruction is a glimpse,
of a wrath you'll never meet.
When the curtain opens,
I'm naked and broken.
I hear you laughing at me.
Will you poke the holes?
Will you shred the ozone?
I know you're whispering.
Possessed by their voices,
they power my choices.
The devil's in my head.
For better, for worse.
In insanity, in sickness.
Do you understand?
Oh..this ruthless romance,
rapes the seeds I have left.
And I promise I want to give,
but I only have rotten apples,
to make your apple pie.
This poem is about my love-hate relationship with food and my obsessive thoughts about attaining perfected beauty. It examines the self-loathing and destructive behaviour that consequently affections all my relationships. The cliche of not being able to love others till you love yourself rings true.
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