Anti Poison

there are nights when you feel so low
that you cannot bare to glance at your kitchen
thoughts of food bring memories of the mirror to your mind

and if the waning of your body
that you cannot see
isn’t worrisome enough
your mind drifts to the razor
hidden in a box underneath your bed

i am one of the lucky ones
i have never had black thoughts plague me
but i can see them hover over you
like a dark cloud heavy with acid rain
there is poison in your veins
and it is slowly killing you from the inside out

every scar on your wrist or belly
every rib or knot of bone
that presses against the inner flesh of your body
is not a figure of speech
they are not symbols or metaphors to be a deciphered
your body is not a piece of literature

the deterioration of your body
is not beautiful
it is a sign of death
like the silence of a canary in a mine shaft

romanticizing and glorifying this poison
is grabbing a shovel for a six foot dig
no one will kiss your scars because they hold no beauty
no one will change the distorted image in your mirror
no one will undo the effects of the poison

you have to make the change
your life is your responsibility
that razor is in your hands
there is food in your kitchen

no one else is the cure
you are an unstoppable force
you are the anti poison