I alone stand;
the need for perfection a family trait.
myduty done
the thought subside
as the year begins a lonesome treck.
in small doses
the darkness beckons.
who will hear the cry?
she looks but doesn’t ask.
she sees the truth behind my mask
her voice alone is my only comfort
but , the perfection wills me:
heaven at last.
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Author:
clair (
Online) - Published: June 7th, 2026 10:32
- Comment from author about the poem: About my anorexia journey
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
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