*trigger warning*

*trigger warning*

Knelt over your toilet, fingers scratching your throat.
Empty packets of pills, baggy jumpers to hide the bloat.
Calorie counting apps and organised binges. 
Never telling a person, incase anyone cringes.

Hours spent in your bathroom, shower running to cover the noise.
Pushing people away, especially avoiding boys.
Empty packets of food thrown in the bin, only for you to wish the cravings didn't win.
Voices in your head and hands running across your body.
The horrible thing is, I'm not even sorry.

Days filled with lies and crying at your reflection.
Then you just make it worse by destroying your complexion.
My wrists want to bleed, but is that always the answer?
Sometimes a scolding hot shower makes the feeling go much faster.

No more periods, replaced with thinning out hair and a constant cold.
Being terrified of gaining the weight again as you grow old. 
But there's something about it, something about letting the voices win.
"Oh what I'd give to be worryingly thin."

Someone tells you "you look like you're dying".
Why does that make me feel like I'm suddenly thriving?
Doctors waiting room's and standing on scales.
You're told you need to be admitted, yet a screaming voice prevails.

Meal plans mean nothing and advice floats right through you.
It's a case of denial, "none of this will help you". 
Your stuck in a bubble, everything feels empty.
Dark intrusive thoughts? Oh I've got plenty.

Your life is repetitive, everything has become routine.
Won't eat anything, unless it's an apple, or it's green.
You're thriving from dying; You, Ana, Mia, and good ol' BED.
"There's no escaping them, until they're happy with me".