Sick and Sweet 

I’m a kid living in a candy store.  

The sweet taste of sugar is the only thing I can feel. 

My days, filled with bright neon gummies, 

sweet rainbow lollipops, and bright, colorful wrappers. 

They contrast my gray frail growing skin and falling teeth. 

Bright hazel eyes, like the earth and green mixed rich,  

develop to blurry pale orbs, there to mock who I once was. 

My hair’s thick and rich long brown locks, 

now short and weak strands, yarn latching to my skull. 

With every swallow I take of these condensed, 

nauseating, empty calories, my life drains into the floor.  

My conscience praying that, maybe, if I eat enough,   

I’ll feel the tangent taste of my first bite in my millionth. 

I entered this place living my best possible life 

yet, now, not half of the person I was. 

I know this isn’t healthy.  

I know I’m slowly falling apart. 

I can’t help but stay. 

I crave emancipation as much as I crave the sweet, 

sickening feeling of caramel dancing between my decaying gums. 

Swallowing everything in my thin, stiff hands. 

Picking away at this once full store until it’s empty.  

Until it’s all gone and I can finally break this cruel cycle. 

People have gazed though the windows, not to lend a hand,  

but only to give concerned curled faces, look away,  

and never have me flow though their mind again.  

Some warn their kids, others make them avert their eyes. 

As if shame will save me from this pallid pattern  

I've been trapped in since I was a child. 

 My legs are twigs, they chain me to the floor. 

Forcing me to drag my limp body to different shelfs. 

They lead me to more distractions, so I don’t remember.  

Remember I’ve sat here too long. 

Remember I can’t walk away by myself. 

Remember my bones are too weak. 

Remember my skin is too frail. 

The yells that leave my lungs are a resentful, rusty note.  

Yet despite my appalling and scratchy calls for help, 

yearning for anyone, anything to come and help me stand, 

big eyed little children still enter this candy shop.  

Unwillingly awaiting the same fate as I. 

Notes from the author:

If you relate to this poem, please, please PLEASE, seek help. Talk to someone, anyone, because you need help. I wrote this years ago when I hated myself, guess what? I got help and now I don't want to kill myself! Yay for emotional growth!!

This is a poem I wrote for my district's literary fair in 2022. I won first place in the middle school free verse category with it. I think it's one of the best things I wrote in middle school. And, despite the angst in this poem being enough to drown in, I'm still very proud of 13 year old me. It's about how my environment made me feel ruined and left me I'm chasing the carefree toddler I once was. I'm obviously a lot heathier now and I'm glad to be who I am, even if I'm no longer that little boy hanging from trees. Maybe one day I'll write a continuation to this poem, who knows?