French is not my language but I'm a student who's on a break!
When I go to work I don't go to bake.
Payslips in the end of the month are the only haunt!
Working for a bank is what I mostly flaunt.
The above four lines are the current trauma,
What you read now is the recent past and so called drama.
I hope you don't relate with pride!
I also hope you never find nothing to hide.
It begun when "they" quoted
"LOVE THOSE WHO LOVE YOU"
You may want to believe,
I'm one of those - "Those"
However, if you don't then,
Go back to the quote and take a dose.
I loved, they didn't! Yet the quote says!
To them the quote has no grace.
I've loved until got beaten to the core
They didn't, got me broken some more.
Could I use a good vocab to elucidate the emotion,
Or you wanna read the Destruction with less interpretation?
Okay, I may use the fancy word Anorexic
Or a few words which are quite toxic.
Puking did make me feel beautiful,
Eating nothing made me full.
No, no one calls me a potato,
But they do mention why not to eat a potato.
You have my apologies if you read me playing a blame game.
I just mean to describe the destruction with no shame.
Gotten drunk on 2 shots of Feni
"He" stood against me with no single penny.
Until a few thousands went to his bank account,
He'd want to love more and justify to stick around.
Perhaps, I lacked the ability to talk and confront,
My heart melted with no oven, him being in the front.
I took kisses with less passion and no effort,
He never asked me about the comfort.
His eyes filled with lust or pleasure asked for more,
I kept failing myself to let him win the score.
Meanwhile, "Fenis" were eating my intestine
And being anorexic kept my stomach clear and clean.
I caused my own terrific humiliation
Some were busy to find me a solution.
My unwanted exercise schedules bothered them.
But no exercise filled my mouth and throat with phlegm.
This process wasn't slow and steady,
I rather slept in the bathroom than to get ready.
Months passed by, I came up with sachets of green tea,
Thought wondered, if I could even dream to fly like a bee.
10, 20 or 25 cups in a day, exclude the night!
Also, the day was extremely longer the day it was a fight.
No wonder I could destruct myself a step more,
Wanting to dive was remaining near the seashore.
Years passed by "Someone fell in love"
With me, Yes! He probably read the quote above.
Guess what! I'd forgotten to follow the quote,
This time I didn't need love, I just wanted to bloat.
His love could be pure and honest!
May be the way I loved and pulled myself to greatest.
His calmness has annoyed me to an extent
Possessiveness has degraded me and my content.
Feeling safe when he is around isn't my goal,
His absence could be sound but I'm the burning coal.
Desperate to close his chapter but he'd not let me turn a single page,
Tried sweetness, harmed my throat but he'd not last with the rage.
Rare blood loss from my slit forearm!
Pain doesn't count, I enjoy the lovely self harm.
Until next time I've learned the stronger grip of knife,
Quite enough to repel from becoming his wife.
The slit marks ain't deep on my thighs, arms, stomach & shoulders
He swears by mom to not hit my head but his intentions bewilders.
My soul stands still but throat pukes,
Body is stoned yet the nose inhales.
Could I be more sorry for knocking down,
Or ignore for the demolish & appreciate with a crown?
My fingers are bleeding with words and illusions
Sheets are red with the fluid of my emotions.
Anorexia has now modernise to bulimia,
What has changed is the real "inertia".
Surf the physics meaning of inertia and momentum,
I might be eligible for food rich in magnesia and potassium.
Reached to an extent with therapy comprehension,
Do we not get ashamed about expressing the drama & situation?
Well, I'm not dead. I die everyday!
Each scratch gets digged deeper without any holiday.
My clothes don't get soaked in the blood
I permit the blood to run through the flood.
And, after I finish those tobacco mixed rolls!
I get back to double taps & make stories with polls.
I express the beauty of happiness to the world,
Credit goes to the stories of flowers, books, shine and gold.
Nobody complaints against my boring face and lively graphic image,
I hold the charm in my eyes and hide the broken cartilage.
Pretending will be the end I believed
And ending the pretend might be relieved
Not too often I see myself digging those scars,
However, I gratify my face dwelled with Wars.