Bulimia My hands are dry from winter's kiss. My feet are callous from shame and sin. All alone I must begin a journey though the pain within. In my mind I try to hide the things I want to keep from light. And if you looked deep inside you couldn't count the tears I've cried... I confess my secret shame. I abuse my body, treat #life like a game. But what do I do? Who do I blame? Myself, of course, when low self-esteem is my name. Over the water, fingers down my throat. I wish for a body that was worth a boast. I look in the mirror to fear I would bloat. Of my own body, I feel out of control. Don't tell me what is seen by your eyes because I truly believe that they are all lies. For help, don't think I have not tried, but my fingers have muffled my cries. I can't stop No matter how hard I try I just want to be skinny