#Poem of the Day

[amateur-scribbler]

Fat.

It’s a word that’s sitting in my stomach with weights tied to its feet. It’s floating down past the food I binged on and then it’s watching the purge; making the toxic cycle complete.

It’s eating up space in my mind, this obsessive outlook about the size of my thighs.

I think I’d be happier, more loveable, and more confident if I was skinnier. I lie to everyone and myself about wanting to lose weight to be healthy when it’s all about the exteriors.

I know it’s not true, just my brain trying to make me want it more, by using a twisted methodology it has always used before. My beautiful brain tries so hard to be helpful but, the whispered insults about my body to spur on change are only making me miserable.

I remind myself that the clawing voices in my mind won’t go away because I’m thinner, and I won’t magically love what’s in the mirror even if I weighed nothing more than a feather.

But, I like the grass.

No, not the bits of green in the salad, but the blades that reside on the other side of the mirror, where I assume the stars all shine clearer and of course my body is the type of unachievable perfection I’ve forever been dreaming of.

body dysmorphia is my best friend - t.k.o.

[lycheeteeni]

Foolish girl

Foolish girl, did you not learn from the past

To never chase, never go too fast?

Slow your pace, for in your race,

You’ll hit hard on your face.

Foolish girl, did I not warn you then,

That the toxic cycle will not end,

‘Til you see the signs, know when to run,

Devalued and discarded, you were only fun.

Foolish girl, you dwell on hopeless souls,

Through trials and tribulations, you take the toll,

Forging ahead, no regard for your own,

He will tear you down to the flesh and bone.

Foolish girl, why are you in shock?

His heart bound by chain and lock

Have you no dignity, no shame,

Your efforts futile, hopes he’ll maim.

Foolish girl, no deficit of better men,

For your wounds fester, inside your den.

Wake up, and see this isn’t new,

Good years, you only have a few.

04-16-24

JI

[die-rosastrasse]

~ Margaret Atwood, from "Variation on the World Sleep"

[lovebloodandmonsters]

— Carolina Outcrop

[sakshinarula]

I removed my soul and set it aside to be read on a Sunday unlike today. Today my lonely is heavier than the earth and the weight of it has been killing me slowly. Time is birthing more time and I don't know what I want to do with the excess I already have.

- Sunday Poem, Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula

[timberfigure]

its strange that the days that i miss you line up perfectly with the days i dont like myself

[poemsforthesehours]

From Brenna Twohy's book, Swallowtail. (Button Poetry, 2019).

[soulinkpoetry]

This gave me chills…. A perfect performance of Michael Sheen reciting “ Do not go gentle into that good night “ by Dylan Thomas.

.

Source YouTube

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[junexsleepyy]

You’re my favorite voice to hear, every time you speak to me.

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

If I had Three Lives by Sarah Russel

[waitingforthesunrise]

[lonelyfrenchpoet]

I was just a kid

I was just a kid.

I wasn't supposed to see that.

I wasn't supposed to do that.

I wasn't supposed to feel that.

I wasn't supposed to hear that.

I was just a kid.

By Val (22.03.22)

[missnarcissistsworld]

In the realm of love, where hearts collide, A tale of passion, where emotions reside, I'll paint a poem, with words so absurd, "I love you," ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

[poetrybyonur]

Being touched by a soul leaves permanent marks.

This is a caption from an older piece.

[lovebloodandmonsters]

"We are a tick on the skin of this sleeping beast. I know what we are. And we breed, raise, teach... Increase"

— Carolina Outcrop, "Woman"

[morsaclizombi]