when did the
mirror break?

a different angle
for every mood
sharper lines
and harsher truths

jaggedly cut through the glass
same stripes up my sides
personal lightening storm
down my shoulders and thighs

when did the
mirror break?

when did fat stop
being a feeling
and more of just
a state of being?

Here on my arm lies a mark that I made.
When I was so low I cut with a blade
To punish my body for being a mess,
Though here is my testament, I must confess...

That seeing these scars left on my arms, legs and chest
Makes me realize I was in a place of no rest;
I feel guilty inside for leaving this token.
Now I will see and remember that I was so broken.

But seeing these scars helps me see
That I survived so much trauma and now I am free;
So I ask of you now to stand with me and fight,
To show all these demons what they're doing's not right,

You won the battle of good versus bad.
You are still alive and are no longer sad;
Here on my arm lies a mark of survival,
I got through my hate and beat my self-rival.

Really, if you think
about it, everyone is
dead. Just not quite yet.