A Sweater Day

This is one of those days,
that nothing feels better than
curling up in bed wearing your pyjamas
and a warm sweater.
To bury my ugly face in,
to forget that I am no stick.
To look at the scars and wonder
"would it still hurt if I tried again."
My thoughts replace my face with ugly thoughts
of drooping eyes and ugly sores
kilos of extra fat
piling on my fat bones.
I try to get up, get dressed,
but all I see is ugly me,
ugly me with clothes that don't fit,
too small, too much of me
to show me that I can be beautiful.
The thoughts linger
until I crawl back in bed,
to forget that what I see is ugly me,
not ugly you, just ugly me.
I promise myself that tomorrow will be better,
tomorrow I will not be so ugly as today.
I won't look so fat, my clothes will fit,
and that diet is not necessary.
Today, I want to be an anorexic,
dieting on water, shedding the ugly genes.
But tomorrow will be better,
I promise myself to not let myself die again.
You will never know how destroying self-hate is,
until you crawl back to bed,
because you can't face your own face.