Bulimia

As I shove my fingers down the back of my raw, sore throat.

I force myself to believe the lie, that I can’t disbelieve

That If I purge myself...

I can lose all the problems I have gained

Looking up at myself in the mirror

Tears slowly fall down my cheeks

Rejecting the reflection that’s in the mirror

That can’t be me.

I aspire to be something I’m not, perfection.

I'm drowning in my own vomiting pain

Constantly letting my insecurities eat at my mind

Feeding myself lies, as I eat the food that is in front of me

This disease has left me bulimic and mentally blinded

I feel dead from purging my soul from the inside

I’m caught in the game of perfection

Not realizing that I’ve already lost.