Description: I wrote this in treatment for an eating disorder.
It does not only apply to an eating disorder, it's about masks, about hiding - behind anything from make up to bravado, behind perfectionism, or behind an old hoodie, behind isolation, or popularity.
Alternative title: Brittle Mask
Longer comments appreciated, the more feedback the more opportunity I have to learn and improve. Thank you.
Collage of Bones -------------------------------------------
Eccentric collector, I am,
of the ‘ideal’ in full selection
display the feathers glued
skeletal and framed
alas, the aching of somber silent stone
Here, glint seen by none
too deep and alone
pretty and pale
the unfeeling pastels
a glamorous paper hue to life
Shelves filled with lost time
dedicated to the idol’s devotion
Keeping here these bits and pieces
knicks and knacks entombed
noose-like round the neck
collector’s core disappears
in mask, in shroud
roots mold and dust shows,
in round glow neglected the backwards task
Collector I am
library of waste, shame, guilt, plague
here, touch the binding
dirt and dreams and all that lies mean
and tell me what the heart says
this is a burning of heart's dam
Hear the waters flow
ease away the bold
count the bones
The pain I feel coming from this makes me remember a time I searched for perfection. Control, pain, bones make you beautiful, just 5 more pounds to perfection, just a few more till I find myself in the hospital. Oh so bitter sweet. Oh so painfully sculpted. Why couldn't I be perfect too?
Sorry about that randomness, I am going to leave it though, because I feel that I needed to type it down and leave it. Somewhere, so here is good enough.
I liked the piece. It conveyed a true and heartfelt emotion and that is what writing is supposed to do.