My Friend, Ana

thin, pretty, fit in those jeans,

look like the girls in the magazines

a soft voice coarsely whispered. 

she stank of insecurity and,

was made of an innocent’s tears.

she fed on the hardships of others

and thrived on their screams,

she was my friend Ana and she was always there.

 

beautiful, flawless, skinny

something you will never be

if you continue to eat,

the small strangled voice shrieked. 

she stole my happiness

and locked it up with a key.

she clung to me like a second-skin,

she was my friend Ana and she was always there

 

don’t eat, don’t eat

the chapped voice tickled my ear

stop I slowly whispered,

my knees buckled as I fell,

don’t eat, don’t eat, she nagged at me,

STOP, ANOREXIA, PLEASE STOP,

I screamed hoping she would hear,

but she was my friend Ana and she was always there

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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