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Until my perfection finds me
Rated: E | Monologue | Psychology | #1636885
The pain of Bulimia.
Tears escape through my eyes from the watery grave of my soul,

Control will help me through, all I wish, all I want, all I need,

Blood drips down my dry lips from the leak in my heart,

I yearn for emptiness, to be pure inside, nothing more to despise,

My head flouts like a cloud yet my body drags me down to the ground,

Blurring the dread in a fog of pain, so much pain and for what gain?

I empty my body of all impurities; flush them to a grave, a watery grave,

It is my only way, the only way I know, until I get my control,

Failure marks my path, my descent into insanity, a whirlpool of deceit,

I always know what to say, to tell them I ate today, lies, so many lies,

Distorting my mind, smearing my image to a blur of ugly obesity,

Will I ever find perfection? Or will perfection ever find me?

It is all I want, all I crave, but I know so well the truth is harsh,

Never, oh never, will I ever reach my goal, my perfection,

Every few pounds that fall, I see an inch grow in their place,

But for just a moment, a tiny moment, my eyes will give me peace,

A glance at utter euphoria, from the corner of my eye, I see what I desire,

Yet every inch returns to its place, for my next glance I see disaster,

Loosing myself in my own mind the creation of a maniac,

I shove my fingers down my throat as far as I can reach,

It hurts; it hurts so much, over and over and over again,

Every single bite I took will come up, until I know it is all gone,

Vomit is yet again followed by a stream of blood and tears,

Straining my eyes, bruising my hands, destroying my brain,

But that is all I have, that is my whole life,

Until I find my control, until my perfection finds me.
© Copyright 2010 lockhart (UN: nicolel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
lockhart has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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