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.

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