A/n: A poem after spending a good amount of time at the doctor's with the C word being thrown around until I was finally was told it was nothing. Review.
"It's
All in your head."
They say
Not with their
Mouths.
They say it with their
Eyes.
They're mouth's say:
"You're fine. You're perfect. I understand your concern."
Their eyes tell a different story:
"Stop trying to get attention. It's fake.
It's all in your head."
It's strange.
This thing that's all in my head.
It is as if I'm watching myself
Vanish.
My body slipping away before my eyes,
Fevers waking me,
My hair growing feathery and loosening in the teeth of my comb,
The loss of control over my emotions
And the hard lump on my collar bone.
I've never seen it,
They insist I missed it.
But of course that is all in my head.
I am perfect.
Yet others must have it in their heads as well.
It made me stop for a moment, horror tight in my throat when
He,
The boy that stole my heart casually said, upon grabing my arm,
"You look like you just escaped a concentration camp."
He has no idea about this thing in my head.
But my thoughts must be infectious for them to be in his head again.
But who am I to ask questions, to doubt them?
I'm not my mentor,
Not the woman who was told,
"It's all in your head."
Every month for nine months.
Before they realized it wasn't just in her head,
That they had allowed the monster to attack her body for months.
I'm just a teen, right?
A silly girl who would starve herself and claim other wise to garner attention.
Because there is no way it could be anything but
All in my head.