The Voice

Please don’t think me mad
When I tell you I have a ‘voice’
It comes and goes.
Giving command of little choice.
Some days it’s calm
And reassuringly cheers.
Other days, it’s angry
And only exasperates my fears.

The ‘voice’ belongs to me,
I manufactured it in my head.
It kept me safe during the day
It protects me in my bed.
Listening to it’s orders
My body I prod and check
Not one inch of fat allowed
No double chins instead of a neck.

With promises of beauty,
Together we step onto the scale.
Have I succeeded and dropped the pounds
Or am I still a big fat whale.
If I disobey its orders
The toilet becomes my fate
And even after being punished,
I still had to restrict what I ate.

When I am well that ‘voice’ ceases
Slowly it disappears
Then so subtly it sneaks back
Bringing with it all my fears.
It’s all about security
As I need it to survive
Yet now I am in recovery
I want to heal and thrive.