A War Shed of Hunger

With long hair and short eyelashes,

She wonders if she would ever be beautiful,

Surrounded by women half her size,

The tattooed belief “thin is in” on her bones burns

And she realizes that an ongoing battle will rage for her soul until the very end,

 

Spear sharpened fingernails claw at the memories,

Nostalgia is a deadly disease,

Because hunger and the high that it promises sounds too good,

 

Vile builds up her throat,

Erupted from the pits of fire within her,

And she realizes that this is what control feels like,

 

Loss is drowning in the piles of promises that cannot be kept,

Comfort is temporary,

Better take it while she can,

 

With carvings into her god made thighs,

And the disrespect of the temple gifted to her,

Lacking the ability to understand where she truly stands,

Belief is a two-way street,

 

A metamorphosis occurs slowly within,

And the clawing for memories becomes a desperate need for safety,

To make a new,

For the future not the past,

 

A war for her life becomes mini battles every day,

From sun, up to the fall of night,

When the moon is clouded over

And the stars are hidden

This is her battlefield,

 

One breath at a time,

One spoonful of hope,

One chance at life again.

 

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.

1 Corinthians 6:19&20

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About railynnt

This is my blog, a place where I can share my writing and journey through recovery, mental illness, and life.
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