skittlesgenesis

The casualities are dying and no one can hear the screams of those who cry for the lambs led to the altar of your indifference like sacrifices to your blood-lust which goes unheaded and unheard in the moaning and sobbing of the masses tainted and betrayed by this world we call home even as we destroy and we burn the things we hold dear to our hearts cold as ice and unfeeling and unloved as we burn in the fires we've started to warm our cold souls which feel not and see not and no one cries for the little lambs as they suffer and die in the slaughter we've learned to love as our own.

 You don't impress me, little girl With your withering frame Your bones pointing out of your body At odd angles Giving you the impression of a living skeleton. Or a doll You don't impress me. I've walked that same path, little girl. Can't eat. Mustn't eat. Food is the enemy. Fattening carbs and proteins. Ravaging your tiny frame with its nurishment. Your angst pours from you Like rain on your poor body You don't impress me. Do you think that ten pounds will fulfill you In a way food never could? Twenty or thirty maybe? Just a few more pounds and I'll stop. You'll never stop. Nothing will fill that void Unless you fill it

 I see my skin Soft, supple and smooth White creamy and pink Steaming with the bathwater Soapy and slick. I feel my skin Warm to the touch, Yielding and clean It looks unlike me Too perfect and pure Unlike this skin I see in the mirror Flawed and imperfect But here the blemishes Speak to a life lived A life unfortunate And unyielding strength The dimples and looseness Cast a shadow of happier times And friends and family And celebration. And I see my skin In the mirror Lumpy and bumpy, Curvy and clean And beautiful And free from pretensions And insecurities. Skin free from the Poisonous scrutiny Of my own worst e