Loreto Secondary School, Bray, Co. Wicklow

Barbed Wire Bones


Frail and pale her thin body hunched over a bathroom scale, crying
She looks up to the mirror and can see that she is dying
Still not good enough
Cold bathroom tile is met by her small feet, and as it does her heart skips a beat
Heart failure is very common amongst those who don’t eat
Her weightless body edges towards her reflection,
Years of starvation has led to her complexion being grey
But to her, this is ok because she is still not good enough
In her dimly lit bathroom she is standing, staring
And all she is wearing is her cloak of fear
Wrapped in her blanket of insecurities
Still not good enough
What started as self-hate has now turned to self-loathing,
Despite the fact that all of her clothing sits on her angular frame as if she is a coat hanger
Her ill mind makes her see a distorted version of her self
Still not good enough
Her match stick gapped legs so weak
She is withering in her trapped thoughts
Rib cage like a number line of counting bones, over time
More bones are appearing, she is shrinking
Bags hang from her eyes
When the pain is too much, she cries but it won’t go away
Cheekbones sharp like a knife, although she’s risking her life she carries on
She has grey wax paper skin, stretched across barbed wire bones,
And she is good enough.





I could hear sirens in the distance.
Tears rolled down the side of my face and slowly dropped into the cold, wet, bloodstained soil.
My eyelids began to close. I tried so hard to keep them open.
I wanted to scream. I thought screaming would make the pain go away. But I couldn’t.
All I could do was lie on the group in absolute uncontrollable agony.
My friend tried to stay beside me holding my hand.
She ran. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled. Then, silence. My body fell limp but-
“She ran”