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Literature Text
Maybe I should have questioned
why your teeth always chattered
like fingers clicking on a typewriter,
and why your fingernails
looked as though faint, blue ink
had bled through
but who questions anything
but hair,
makeup,
and boys
at the age of sixteen
and maybe I should have noticed
the lunches you spent
doing homework,
or listening to music,
as you gave away your lunch,
because you said
you were not hungry-
and I silently thought
more for me
and maybe I should have wondered
why you walked through the hallways
with pockets of graphite
under your eyes,
as your knees knocked together
like keys on a lanyard:
clink
clink
clank
and maybe then
I wouldn't sit here with guilt
that eats at me-
eats,
like you never did.
why your teeth always chattered
like fingers clicking on a typewriter,
and why your fingernails
looked as though faint, blue ink
had bled through
but who questions anything
but hair,
makeup,
and boys
at the age of sixteen
and maybe I should have noticed
the lunches you spent
doing homework,
or listening to music,
as you gave away your lunch,
because you said
you were not hungry-
and I silently thought
more for me
and maybe I should have wondered
why you walked through the hallways
with pockets of graphite
under your eyes,
as your knees knocked together
like keys on a lanyard:
clink
clink
clank
and maybe then
I wouldn't sit here with guilt
that eats at me-
eats,
like you never did.
Literature
i promise it wasn't you
one:
that boy taught me that girls who speak up
are not fit for loving.
that bastard taught me that girls who say no
are not fit for loving;
it was my voice or my heart,
and i chose love.
(after all,
isn't that the greatest thing?)
two.
when the pain weighted my
body to the floor,
when the carpet covered me with dust
and claimed my bones,
my friends called me lazy.
"where are your wounds?"
i cupped my glued-up heart in my hands.
they rolled their eyes
and turned away,
asked me why i'd turn myself
into some craft project
for a hopeless, wandering boy
and night after night i cried
"i don't know, i don't know,
i don't know."
three:
Literature
How to be Popular
don’t talk
just breathe
stand straight
smile brightly
don’t argue
don’t fight
don’t cry
don’t frown
do homework
go to parties
sneak out
get drunk
listen to friends
go with the flow
be silent
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Literature
Bulimia Nervosa
Does mother notice my visits to the bathroom
Have become more frequent of late?
And how they always seem to be after meal times
When with my parents I’ve just ate
Does she stand in the hall outside the bathroom
With her ear pressed against the door?
Wondering why the tap is running so fast
And what I’ve flushed the toilet twice for
Has she seen all of the empty sweet wrappers
Hidden under my bed when she cleans?
Does she fully understand the significance
Of what this behaviour actually means?
Is purge even a word in her vocabulary
To which she’s able to define?
Does she believe my words or my sunken eyes
When I insist
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Made a little poem that is sort of a fictional story revolving around eating disorders. I am not quite sure if it is up to par: SUGGESTIONS PLEASE! Have a fab day!
All you sunflowers are bomb!
And to any struggling, please seek help if needed. I'm always here for you, and there are so many others here for your too. You deserve to be happy.
Let's get connected:
Instagram- instagram.com/brittanyatk
Tumblr- boomingdreams.tumblr.com/
All you sunflowers are bomb!
And to any struggling, please seek help if needed. I'm always here for you, and there are so many others here for your too. You deserve to be happy.
Let's get connected:
Instagram- instagram.com/brittanyatk
Tumblr- boomingdreams.tumblr.com/
© 2015 - 2024 Tangled-Tales
Comments84
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Beautiful!