A Cry For Help

A Cry For Help

Sometimes the tears pour down my cheeks,
Teddy bears engulf me with their hugs,
I can feel their skin against mine,
I can’t feel the concern,
I can’t feel the worry,
I can only feel the prying as deep as the scar on my knee.

Sometimes I shake in fear,
The jeering crowds, ready for the hanging gather to watch,
I hear them laugh,
I can’t hear the whispers,
I can’t hear the private conversations,
I can only hear my voice shaking like a maraca as I try to read.

Sometimes I smile and pretend all is well,
I hop along my hair flying in the sunny air,
I can’t smell the decaying corpse,
I can smell the flowers,
I can smell the hope,
I can’t smell the salty smell of tears as frequent as day.

Sometimes I eat and make myself sick,
The acid monsters creep up my throat and attack my teeth,
I can taste the apple I ate for dinner,
I can’t taste the sweet chocolate because I would get fat,
I can’t taste the starchy texture of potatoes because they are carbs,
I can only taste the texture as crunchy as ice of cucumber and celery.

Sometimes I sit and observe,
The fan fare keeps going no matter how many things go wrong,
I can see the people winning everything,
I can’t see how fat I am,
I can’t see how much I’m crying for help,
I can only see how much of a failure as bleak as linen I am.

I cried today,
I will cry tomorrow,
I cried yesterday,
I am crying.

By Alessandra Golightly

wow, awesome job. 🙂

thank you, it was school work but I had to edit it to end in (obviously) but I wanted to real version to have it's moment.

Untitled.

I’ve never met her,
My mother seems to have.

I wish I could meet her,
She sounds perfect.

She has dirty blond hair and hazel eyes,
As do I.

She is bright, bubbly and confident,
I’m none of these things.

She is beautiful,
I am not.

She is above average,
I am average.

I wish I was perfect,
She has no wishes.

She stands on the table and everyone listens,
I cower in the corner and nobody notices.

Where have you seen her?
I can’t find her?

by Alessandra Golightly

This is about a year old, so it doesn't complete my life story, but that's what it was at the time.

Lost Child

A smitten father and mother,
Had a new little sister and baby brother.

The elder sister already eight,
Didn’t like the twins they cried too late.

Carrying, crawling, toddling, clambering,
These little twins were soon walking.

Five years past they started school,
At first they both thought it was cool!

Their mother went back to edit Vogue,
Leaving them to play with Natie Logue.

Addie, Nate, Dan and James
All four had high aims.

For Nate medicine was declared,
James and accounting were soon paired.

Addie and Dan what to do?
Quick witted and fun with their brains down the loo.

The lights, the camera, the stage,
Called to Addie from a magazine page!

Her sister went off to RADA,
While she tried to fit into Prada.

Alas try as she might,
The size zero was just too tight!

She starved herself thin,
It was all she wanted.

Those hopes and dreams have all turned to ash,
Is there hope left, or is her life too much of a dash?

by Alessandra Golightly

Oh my .... wow... I feel speechless...

Your writing is beautiful!

An Evening on the Dance Floor

I jump out the taxi, James follows me,
As I walk into the room, I can hear the whispers,
I burn with resentment, why me?
I wish I could melt to the ground,
The pressure drops like a veil over me dragging my hopes down.

The girls stand together,
They are perfected,
In their uniform of knee length dresses,
They face the apposing army with malice,
Or is it eagerness?

I walk down the room to the group of guys and girls I know too well,
They hug me in turn,
They welcome me back,
I feel better, I feel accepted,
They are popular, what they say goes.

I see him out of the corner of my eyes,
Is he flirting?
Who is she?
I feel the doubt rise in my throat,
Was this a good idea?

I feel the unease within me battling itself,
Should I leave now?
I had so much to tell him,
Did he mean what he said last week?
If he did, then who was that?

The evening progresses,
The girl is a foreign exchange student from Adelaide,
She is called Martha,
She is living with Saffy Reeves,
So, surely he was still saving me the slow dance?

I watch the night go bye,
It all goes so fast,
I can’t keep up,
I’m overwhelmed,
Why can’t I go home?

I make a move,
A hand reaches for my shoulder,
I turn,
It isn’t him,
It’s a mutual friend.

The slow dance begins,
Nate takes me in his arms,
I feel unease creep over me,
Like flightless moths,
I promised it to Dan.

I see the door open,
I make an assumption,
I pull away and dash for the door,
As I reach it I am pulled into a hug,
A hug only a brother can give.

I snuggle into James as I cry,
He guides me out the door,
He lets my hand go,
Dan,
Dan takes my hand.

By Alessandra Golightly

Thank you for all the comments!

amazing. 🙂

awesome job. ✅

Wow, I like these

Big Girls Don’t Cry

The alarm clock drags me from my sleep, as a mother has her child taken.
The harsh glow of the lamp mellows.
I swing my legs from under the duvet,
My feet find the ground,
Uncertainly I stand.
I feel weak,
As weak as a ribbon.
I make a feeble effort to reach the wardrobe,
I stand at its door unsure what to do,
I know what’s inside,
I know what I’ll see.
I stand waiting as if to walk to the gallows.
My fate is worse.
Tentatively my hand reaches for the handle,
I jump back as though scalded.
My despair overwhelms me,
The hot angry tears tear down my cheeks like knives.
Knowing I have to face her sometime, I shut my eyes and open the door.
There she is,
A child lost to perfection,
I see her bony wrists,
Her delicate fingers,
The yellowed skin,
The lank hair.
I take in the tear stained face,
And as I wish it wasn’t me, I remember: Big girls don’t cry.

By Alessandra Golightly

I wrote this in regestration.Just so you know the thing I'm scared of is the mirror.

What do I deserve?

I look at myself in the mirror,
I compare myself to the girl next to me,
She is perfect,
Her waist is barely 11 inches,
I find myself staring, fantasying,
If I was that thin my life would be completed,
I could die happy.

I don’t deserve to be happy,
I don’t deserve nice clothes,
I don’t deserve to have food.

I sit in my usual seat,
Hailey comes in,
She is thin,
She is happy,
But she’s horrible.
She is a whore.
Why does she deserve to be thin?

I don’t deserve a lift to school,
I don’t deserve to do well at school,
I don’t deserve lunch.

I turn on the television,
There’s another one,
She is my idol,
She has a pelvic bone,
She has a rib cage,
She has delicate wrists,
I want to be her.

I don’t deserve friends,
I don’t deserve to look in the mirror and be happy,
I don’t deserve to live.

size is nothing i kno people that are very skinny but there asses im a big guy but every one loves me becasue im nice

I'm anorexic. I just have urges to get my feelings out through bad poetry written in minuets. This one is actually really weird but I was in a really bad mood and if you'd seen me you would have sectioned me:

Slapping my arm, the frustration builds and I tear at the flab of my body wishing it was gone. I tear at my clothes wishing they looked better on me, the tears jump off the scalding surface of my face on to the floor of my bedroom, a bedroom which is perfect in every essence. I am the only thing letting it down. I let everyone down. I don’t just let people down. I let clothes down. I let my old toys down. And most of all I let her down.