He steadily grasped my heart with no intentions of letting go.
He picked the lock to my mind and infiltrated in.
My eyes began to tell me lies.
The doctors even showed proof, but I remained In denial.
The scale challenged my reasoning, but I knew Ed was right.
The alarm screamed my heart rate was too low, but Ed reassured me it was still beating.
He walked me to my grave and opened my casket.
He comforted me and said that this wasn't the end.
I turned around.
I was not ready to willingly lay down in my own grave.
My thoughts are distorted, and my body is weak.
Ed, my eating disorder, is to blame.
I refuse to let him win.
The day I turned my back at my grave, was the day I knocked on recovery's door.
The door opened.
I had found life.