The Pretty Ones.

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The pretty ones,

With gorgeous souls,

All these girls,

So beautiful. 

Anorexia has a type. 

She haunts the girls

With intelligence,

With compassionate hearts,

And sensitive souls. 

Anorexia lies in wait,

Then slowly she makes herself known.  

She whispers the words

That are poison to their entire being,

So that they feel like empty shells

Walking through life,

Controlled and handcuffed

To this ugly shadow

That follows their every waking moment. 

The pretty ones 

Have pain in their eyes,

If you look too close

You will see deep sadness there.

They carry these chains

Wherever they go,

Slowly they become 

Accustomed to the heaviness,

That follows behind with 

Each step they take.  

The pretty ones,

They are held captive,

Slaves to this disease. 

They believe the lies,

And so it feels natural 

To follow anorexia's commands. 

Peace is impossible. 

For every moment,

Every breath,

Feels like shame. 

Guilt plagues their every move,

They are resigned to their post in life,

Prisoner to a disease 

So few will understand. 

And so the loneliness sets in. 

She hides away,

She ignores the ringing of her phone. 

Hiding, 

Chest pounding,

When there is a knock at her door. 

She holds so much shame,

That it feels easier to hide away.  

Somedays she might briefly see 

A pretty girl in the mirror,

But anorexia will not allow 

This moment to last. 

Glimpses of the truth,

Last for but a second,

Until she remembers the chains

Tied to her ankles,

Each step heavy and loud,

Her legs feel like tree stumps,

So much heaviness upon her limbs.

She sees them watching her. 

They must think she is disgusting too. 

Why must they stare,

Do they hear the sounds from 

The bathroom stall?

Do they see her splash her face 

To rid her eyes of the tears that appear

From forcing food up her throat?

If I had one wish,

I would take their pain away. 

I would carry the burden 

Of anorexia for all these girls. 

To set them free,

Would make my suffering 

Feel worthwhile. 

I pray for them to see their beauty,

I long for them to know their worth. 

Dear God,

If I can lighten their burden in any way,

Please show me how. 

My suffering can not be in vain. 

So even while the chains 

Are tied to my own limbs,

I will gladly carry more,

If even one burden

Will leave just one soul. 

The chains feel lighter now. 

I am not the girl I was

Two months ago. 

I feel braver,

More free. 

The chains remain,

But they are lighter somehow. 

Perhaps all my wishes 

On dandelions have been heard. 

Perhaps God is lifting my burden

So that I can someday 

Have the capacity to help

The pretty ones to see

Just how beautiful they are

From my eyes.