My Body
My body’s my temple,
It’s falling apart.
The wall are now crumbling
Unveiling my heart.
A heart that is empty,
It’s hollow and wanting.
Tap; hear the echo
Of the one needing something.
My body’s my temple,
It’s breaking you’ll find.
The part that is vulnerable:
An agonized mind.
A mind that is full
Of bad thoughts that torture
My day and my night,
They ruin my future!
My body’s my temple
It used to be whole.
I think it’s now missing
The life and the soul.
Too stressed to continue,
Don’t want to give up!
I can't fight this battle
I’m stuck in this rut!
My body’s my temple,
But what fills me is vital
To keep it all standing
Yet I’ve gained the titles:
“Mentally ill”,
“Anorexic”, “Depressed”,
Meaning nothing to me
So I’ll hope for the best.
Will my temple stay standing?
Will I get through this all?
My hope’s running low!
There’s a crack in the wall!
The dark clouds have gathered,
Will I get through the rain?
Will surviving the storm
Make me happy again?
© REBEKAH SMITH November 2002.
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