She was 9 at the time,

    never knew of hate.

    Her weight she started gaining,

    her body she started hating.

    She’s 10 now but refuses to

    look in a mirror.

    She wants to stay positive, but her image

    she started to fear.

    She’s 11, eats too much then cries

    herself to sleep, “If only their

    were a way to not make me

    feel weak.”

    She’s 13, it’s her golden birthday.

    She had a slice of cake but then

    started bowling.

    She wanted a second piece so she

    went back for more, then she felt

    she needed to run out the door.

    She’s 14 now, she’s made it so far,

with a boyfriend and a father telling her

    they love her, even with the scars.

    She’s turning 15 soon but depression

    is a disease, that loves

    to increase.

    She’s calling for help with a voice

    so little, she says “I’m fine.”

    and ends with a smile and a giggle.