He doesn't know if he can take it any longer,
But he fears being hurt by the one he calls father,
He prays to the grave of his mother;
Some days he wishes he could purge on food and water,
And still have the image of being slim,
People, you don't know the things being done to him;
His stomach turns and eats itself up,
He wishes it would all stop,
He thinks people who can eat like you, are lucky,
His life is suck-y.
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Life is Life.
PoetryJust little props (poems/songs) I've written to open the eyes. *I don't own any of the media work (art, etc)
