Recovery Is a Battle

I'm done with nights bleeding on the bathroom floor
Done with sucking down 4 cigarettes on an empty stomach
Done with eating entire cakes that will be violently purged from my body
Done with feeling high and low all at once, going numb, losing my mind
Done with hurting the ones I love the most
I am so fucking done.

Slowly killing myself could feel great
But in the end I will have wasted my life.
I will not cave in.
I know I am strong enough.
The disorder likes to fucking torture me, slip into my memories
I am a lost soul
Looking for love in a cold dark night
But this time I will wait for the sun to rise
Instead of lighting a fire with my flesh.
I am so fucking done.

So I choose to eat breakfast.
And I choose to eat lunch.
And I choose to eat dinner.
I smile at myself in the mirror.
God knows I hate what I see
The body that got me raped
But I love it for all it does.
I flush that damn razor blade down the toilet.
I watch it get washed away.

God knows it is so damn hard to let go.
Every day is a battle.
Every day I choose to live.
Every day I want to die.

But I know I will recover from this.
As long as I persist.