Ficly

More or Less.

He says he loves my curves and my crooked teeth but I know it’s just a lie.
He says he’d never cheat on me but I see the way the girl in his biology class looks at him; it’s only a matter of time.

My friends say I’m pretty but when I look in the mirror I may as well be on all fours with a leash around my neck.
My friends tell me I should really eat more but I know I can lose another pound if I eat a morsel less.

My teachers are concerned about me and ask if everything is okay at home.
My teachers say I can talk to them but it’s not like they’re my mom.

My mom constantly asks me why we don’t communicate anymore.
My mom runs after me when I walk away but I only slam the door.

My mother cries and my father turns on the TV.
My mother tries not to make too much noise or else he gets angry.

And here I am in my bathroom, bent over the toilet.
The voices in my head are always there but for these few minutes, I just don’t care.
I spit the poison out and flush down the hate so the noise in my head can dissipate.

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