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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2229664-The-Treadmill
by Hey
Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2229664
A girl goes running but starts to lose herslef

Her exhaust she perched and framed like the output of triumph,
To Mom she murmured of her swelling feet.
To Dad her “output” was just defeat.
Persistent she stayed.
Ardent in her persistence, what’s the reward for trying?
Mom was now enraged in all her complaining.
Dad was bewildered when she thought she was over-training.
Repetitive she worked.
Straining a heart with no proper diet, dissipating until she’d given them quiet.
Moon crescent furls of hair,
Blatantly depleting.
The bones on her arms so prominent now
Mom with unmitigated gal didn’t perceive her as so much of a cow.
Dad asked for a jewelry boutique now he settled
For one pearl.
So, when she grasped the edges of her rusted mirror with intoxication
She only saw a sickly girl.
Surrendering she trembled,
Was this the high?
Beguiled in a glass case, she felt so utterly like a mime.
Sprinting on her treadmill,
she was dire for one last race
one impossible fight against time.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2229664-The-Treadmill