Mistakes

I'm not sure how to tell you,
I was never good with words.
I think that I'll just write it,
I'll put it into verse.

I think it started last year,
No wait it was long before that.
It started when I was a little girl,
When my best friend called me fat.

I didn't think much of it then,
Didn't realise how deep I'd been cut.
I bet she doesn't remember it,
But now I'm in a rut.

That wound was left to fester,
It was left to grow much worse.
I didn't realise how bad it was,
Until the day it burst.

I remember that day so clearly now,
It's burned deep into my mind.
I placed my feet onto the scales,
And feared the thin red line.

It hovered over 46,
And I thought "That's not too bad."
But then I remembered all the other girls,
And my weight just made me sad.

Maybe sad isn't quite the right word,
To describe what I was feeling.
My heart had gone numb and cold,
But my head inside was reeling.

I didn't think I had a problem,
I thought my thoughts were fine.
I thought I was doing good for myself,
In lessening my waistline.

I started writing poetry,
Of the morbid kind.
Kind of like this poem in fact,
My parents were so blind.

Until the day they found the poems,
And they sent me to the doctor.
He said that my mind was sound,
If not, I deserved an Oscar.

I told my closest friend about it,
And together we slumped down.
Into anorexia we dived,
Not thinking we would drown.

Every day became a challenge,
A new goal to defeat.
Counting every calorie,
A smaller weight I had to reach.

My ribs began to poke out,
My wrists they were so skinny.
The tendons on my knuckles were white,
Finally I was size mini.

Eventually one of us realised,
That what we were doing hurt.
In that destructive path we were on,
Death was a dead cert.

We'd dug ourselves into a hole,
Really difficult to get out.
Very very deep and dark,
Where no one can here you shout.

Eventually we managed it,
We pulled each other through.
And for that favour my dear friend,
I sincerely do say "Thank You."

Sometimes I do worry,
That I'm not completely free.
Gripping tightly to the ledge,
Staring down into the tyranny.

Sometimes I feel it hiding there,
That tiny voice inside.
Chiding every morsel,
"Can you really afford that bite?"

I'm trying hard to flip the switch,
To be again called "normal."
But it's simply not that easy,
The front I put on is formal.

As you sit here reading this,
I hope that you will learn.
Do not make mistakes I made,
Because freedom is hard to earn.