Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I'm so exhausted with
Waging wars against my body.
It is tiresome and old
And I never seem to run out of
Ammunition
Or leave myself a place to hide-
Or anything sacred and special
To fall into
When these fits of rage
And self loathing overtake me,
And I pick apart
My soft stomach
And my uneven skin
And my arms
And my thighs
And the too shrill sound of my
Voice.
And I wish I could raise
My
White
Flag
But I'm on both sides of this war...
And with every battle-
I lose myself
Over and over
More and more
Every day.
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