My body is empty.
It’s a white glass filled with sunlight and air.
Pure. Simple. Breathtakingly sad.
Trembles that start within my famished
Muscles and spider veined cracks cause
Spasms, and tears fall from colorless,
Emotionless eyes as tiny pieces fall
From the glass and shatter. The glass
Is a metaphor for the mental prison that
holds me. It is also a metaphor for the
freedom i have rightfully earned.
I have been refrained from childhood
innocence. I was plunged prematurely
the deviant world of a delinquent idiot.
Every parcel of food that passes my lips
reseals gaps in my transparent prison
and reinforces its walls. For every calorie
I pass by the glass trickles heart-breakingly
slow, the walls thinning. I'm so close to the
egress of this torturous place. And yet so far
away. Because with every crack that leads to
abolitionism of my cage, is one step closer
To an empty body that can steal no air.