*trigger warning* (eating disorder and thoughts of self-harm)

When she’s born there’s a clamor, a hush and a sigh

It’s a girl! Came the shout, followed by her loud cry

She is cradled and kissed, little hands in their fists

As if born, and ready to fight.

She is six and she’s playing with toys in the dirt

Someone pushes her down, now she’s crying and she’s hurt

But: oh dear, what a mess! See the stains on your dress!

Oh, you look such a terrible sight.

She is ten when it started — the whispers, the doubt

When she heard her first comment — your belly sticks out.

And now just from that, all her friends call her fat

So she sucks it in for far too long.

She is fourteen, her friends are scared of being ‘big’

The teachers say things like, “she’s thin as a twig!”

And unlike before, she’s upset, insecure

And now feels like she doesn’t belong…

At sixteen she starts seeing food as a prize

She starves every day to wear small as a size,

Wishing she’s thinner, she can’t look in the mirror

And her parents say, it’s just a phase.

She cries every night as she chases her sleep,

The cuts started shallow, but then they ran deep

She lies thinking in bed, if it’s better to be dead,

We almost lost her, back in those days.

She’s a girl of eighteen, she feels bad for her friends

She eats what she wants and unfollowed all trends

She’s unlearning the hate for her body, her weight

Now she sees how society was wrong.

Now brand new, twenty two, and still finding her place

She stays healthy, works out, and she likes her own face

And on her bad days she knows that she’ll be okay —

She was so beautiful, all along.

~Iman

We write for our thoughts are many

And hope to turn them into art

For either full or hollow we all have sorrow

That strikes at the strings of our heart

We read for one life is too little,

At times unfulfilling, disappointing, a bore

But in books I’m alive, in escaping I thrive,

For we make history with stories, with lore.

We laugh for our joy is so fleeting,

We cry for our pain is so vast,

But there’s ample blessing for release through expressing

And knowing that this too shall pass

We love for it’s what we were made for,

Passion was meant to be more than a drive,

Our pre-destined souls need much more to be whole,

Need each other to feel more alive.

We look at the stars to feel wonder

To look up at something that makes us feel small

Their sparkling and twinkling lead us into thinking

That we don’t really matter at all.

We pray for our hearts yearn for something,

Something that this world does not have in store,

Because that kind of love only comes from above

With a promise that we’ll receive more.

~Iman

Empty houses, eerie echoes
And the gates began to rust
Flapping wings and distant caws heard from a window thick with dust
Skies are grey, the clouds are thick
Over the garden filled with weeds
Upturned soil reveals the rotting flesh
And dying, broken seeds.
Near the willow hangs a rope,
Its trunk is thick as it is marred,
Poisoned roots turn leaves a sickly yellow,
Branches gnarled and scarred.
Night befalls the silent neighborhood,
Save for the wind’s soft howling
And the moon decides to hide from things
Unknown that may be prowling
And sometimes, some miles away
From cursed towns that raise our hackles
Come certain distant sounds, quite strange
Sometimes a scream, sometimes a cackle
And you walk around in daytime, not
Too scared then by those cries
But by evening sometimes light reflects
Some strange and glossy eyes
Haunted towns are just a rumor
And you’re safe by several miles
But something inside remains unsettled
By everybody’s smile
Now the sounds each night seem closer
And you’ve stopped seeing the moon
But you hear disturbing giggles
Coming from the nearest room
And the house starts getting dusty
And the flowers start to die
You don’t see people anymore,
Just crows with beady eyes
And your hands are cracked and bleeding
Now from clawing at the wood,
From tying ropes and burying bodies,
As well as you could,
And you step into the rope and jumping never felt so good
The laughter echoing around the town,
Now haunted neighborhood.

-Iman

Pieces of paper, ink spilled on the floor,
Words on the walls, poems carved in the door
Breath sharper than needles, hands running through hair,
Nails bitten to stubs, pages blanker than air
Trembling fingers, thoughts falling apart
Then the words slowly bleed from the cracks in your heart
You’re lost in the story, and it pours from your soul
Who knew writing could turn our empty to whole?
Voice dripping through fingers, never heard, never used,
But hurt sparks a flame that gets caught on a fuse,
And the pen detonates, with the ink running wild-
The cracks now a river resembling a smile
The dam having burst and the words broken free,
Like broken nights bringing dawn, or broken seeds sprouting trees,
And the world wants to portray that we must break to fully open,
How comforting to know that there is beautiful in broken.

-Iman

Perhaps the glass may be too clean
For then the flaws, hallucinations,
Warp the simple image standing,
Filled with hate and hesitation,
And if mirrors could write poetry,
They’d write unhappy reflections
Of the craters in our pores and all the scars in our complexions
They would write not with despondency but with hatred at the curse
Seeming to span all generations of those prey to this verse.
This prose that paints dissatisfaction, drilled into our very bones
For we wants dolls for our reflections, and a heart replaced with stone.
See, if mirrors could write poetry
Then the tears would be reflecting
They’d write how shattered glass, not human faces
Needed more perfecting
How very cruel it is, creating mirrors, subjecting them to creatures:
Miracles, that full of life, then waste it hating all their features
And if mirrors could write poetry
To the ones looking galore:
To the people gazing deep inside:
Waste not a moment more.

-Iman

What if I was never loved?
Would I be drowning while on land?
Would I be begging for affection,
With my small and shriveled hands?
Is love a medicine, a cure?
And would it soothe your aching cries?
Would love erase the empty look
That I see lurking in your eyes?
And what’s the price of it, how much?
Is love a thing that can be bought?
Or do we numb ourselves with pain
To kill the pleasures we had sought?
And all these things that you’ve been chasing
All your fortune and your fame
Do they complete that missing, longing ache
That doesn’t have a name?
I have had my share of darkness,
but also loved too hard to breathe
and now I realize I was wrong:
love isn’t guaranteed
So as I stroke your scars borne from a chisel
Different than mine
I think that living has a price to pay
But love is not the fine
And so my heart explodes with gratitude
Although it’s also split and torn
As I imagine how I’d be
If all the love I’ve had was gone.

-Iman

Their smiles

too wide

drip venom

sickly sweet concealing malice
I was the princess on the throne but
Doomed to perish in the palace
I was meant to be the queen,
Wearing a polished, shiny crown
but their shiny fangs were gleaming

as instead they watched me drown
Once beloved, I was cherished
And such a treasure to the town
But now my silks and laces choke me
In my golden yellow gown
I was a symbol to the city
Born and raised to rule the land
But man is fickle, life’s a game
And I had played the wrong hand.
My reign may have been fleeting
But they’ll never have my head
For I will live on in the shadows
Ruling darkness now instead
And though the darkness was misunderstood
So hidden out of sight
It is more loyal and more trustworthy
Than ever was the light
And it’s a lesson I have learnt
I’d choose being loved over being seen
Rather than shunned and scorned, I’d rather i
Be treated like a queen.

Note: I just found this on my notes app and thought I’d post it. don’t ask me what it means, because I have no idea either. Enjoy, though!

-Iman

I used to look up at the pale, blue sky

And bask in rays of blue

Used to write about the stars

The mundane trees were poems, too

And the wind on Thursday morning

Made me feel some kind of way

I thought, how could I miss this beauty

Of the world, of every day?

But we feel this bone-deep weariness,

So tired that it aches,

And we miss the little things,

Because we never take a break.

We start to lose the light, our hope,

And it starts to get quite dark,

But who told us that we need to shine,

And need to leave a mark?

We feel so driven to account for our

Existence in this world,

That we take this gift and try to force

The petals to unfurl

We feel the need to hurry, but

This life isn’t a race,

And whatever that you run towards,

Please run at your own pace,

Sometimes life can overwhelm you,

Sometimes your days are more than rough,

But no matter who you are, just know

That right now, you’re enough.

You can take some time, a step back,

You don’t have to be okay,

And you’ll weather all your storms,

One step by step, and day by day

You don’t have to change the world right now,

Don’t have to ‘get to par’

Because you’re meant to be somewhere,

And it’s exactly where you are.

-Iman

Gardens of flowers and beautiful trees
A whirlwind of autumn, a gift from the breeze
I go there sometimes when I’m falling apart
When the world is a knife trying to pierce through my heart
When i was a young girl, i had so much hope
I’d imagine a world with no worries, to cope
And i sit here at seventeen, still young, and still broken
Writing words time will hide, never read, never spoken
I swim in the seas of my thoughts, but I’m bound
With the weight in my heart, slowly pulling me down
And my hand reaches up, and I’m gasping for air,
And I scream for someone, but of course, no one’s there
I feel so much older, with the things I’ve been through
Feel like life has been long enough, now I’ll pay my due
I don’t want to go on, how much time till the end,
I call out to God, to my only best friend.
He tells me this life is a journey, a test
Something better awaits, if I just do my best
It’s not people, but God, that I must try to please,
And he smiles down and says,
"With all hardship comes ease."

-Iman

I wipe away her tears, falling
So desperate, so scared
All alone and at rock bottom,
Thinking, “No one even cares.”
And then I whisper to the little girl,
It’s going to be alright
We made it out, my little one
Just don’t give up the fight
It’s ocean breeze and open seas
The sun will keep you warm
A paradise awaits for you
Once you’ve weathered this storm
You’ll laugh again, I promise
You’re so strong, I wish you knew
That your future self is happy,
And she’s rooting just for you.

-from Future me