TW: Anorexia

"Eat More" she says with a concerned frown,
"Or your small butt might let you down."
Her words, though kind, cut deep within,
a mirror to a struggle I can't begin.

She doesn't see the battle I fight,
in the shadows of my mind, not in sight.
Her loving push to fill my plate
contrasts with a hunger I cannot abate.

To her, it's just a mother's care,
but to me, it's more than I can bear.
The world's gaze, the weight of her words,
misses the quiet voice that's unheard.

In every bite, there's a silent plea,
for understanding, for a chance to be
more than the image that's seen from afar—
a soul struggling beneath a fragile scar.