Here I am, naked bare,
exposed to my core, hiding no more,
bulimia is her name and she consumes my every thought,
my soul has been sold and bought.
Bulimia go away,
my teeth, you took them they did not stay.
Employers run they think I am on drugs,
I am stepped on and walked over as if I were a used rug.
Smiling is something Ii just simply do not do,
in fear of what those around me say about the when, where, why, and who.
I can't be myself, I am a recluse.
I don't bother going out, I remain an elusive chanteuse.
I say I don't care what people say about me but I really do,
in the back of my mind I wonder if some one will understand, will it be you?
I wish I had my life back bulimia, the one I had before you,
I wasn't happy then, I am not happy now, I am stuck, what is that I do?
No comments:
Post a Comment