Warning: the following piece contains content about an eating disorder which may be triggering for some.
These poems were written while I was admitted at a mental hospital, and poetry was my outlet for everything going on in my head. Each of these were written in order: the first poem was the first one I wrote while I was there, and the last was the final poem I wrote before I was discharged. The purpose of this is to show the raw emotion of everything that went on during my lowest point, unedited and untouched.
This feels like city lights, apple pie baked just right I’m here and I’m ready to take flight
It isn’t for the weak but that's what we are our poor bleeding hearts our own unique scar the warmth closes in as my blue fingers write my papers are scattered recover - I might
I smile, I frown I’m up and I’m down I’m flying a kite I get pulled off the ground I’m up in the sky through clouds I fly cold stings my cheeks and I wonder why why do I go I’m bruised and it shows Is my future bright? right now, I don’t know
trigger warning - eating disorder ed wants chicken legs. ed wants to be skin and bones. ed loves these. he revels in them, pursues them, being “too skinny” is the best compliment. In fact, these insults become goals. He repeats them, and thinks, and obsesses, and acts, until I have my own pair of chicken legs. pancakes for dinner but ed tells me no fred brings me suffering ted brings the low but now I have warmth and I bury the cold Jen would be proud my parents I’ve told that I see a horizon a sun that holds hope I’ve hiked up a hill and now’s the downslope walls are opening cheeks ache from my smile my laughter rings strong and still all the while my insides are cold but outside is warm I’m told to get worse but right now I’m torn I’m not used to this taste it’s sweet, almost tart but bitter is gone recover - I start.