Mistress Gluttony (Mia)

Introduction

In rhyme I must this truth impart,
Aloud my resolve would surely depart,
This curse I brought upon myself,
In secret threatens to destroy my health.
If asked in person I'd surely deny,
In anonymous verse I now comply.

This tale I tell may be lyrical but true,
Not for fainthearted, and for empathy few,
For those who know this curse I possess,
Do rarely find the strength to confess.
But relieving my burden, truths weighty load,
Is my first step onto recovery's road.

I speak these words not to gain sympathy,
Nor show encouragement for those like me,
I don't want to make another's problem worse,
But the unwary must know of our hidden curse.
I don't want acceptance of past crimes,
Only to purge my heart through my rhymes.

Main

Personified in mind to defer the horror,
I am the servant of a figure of power,
Using her guise as defence against guilt,
Grafting fault if my resolve should wilt.
Convinced she, not I, is the one to blame,
I am yet unready to overcome the shame.

Against my corrupted will she exerts,
Her influence of greed, and authority asserts,
When I'm in her grasp she tightly will hold,
Until the macabre events do unfold,
She delegates the occasions craving,
She controls how I am behaving.

My Mistress Gluttony, whose rule I obey,
And in so doing, her cousin betray,
Once honoured, worshiped Queen Perfection,
Torn now is my loyalty and twisted affection.
My body the battlefield, o'er which they fought,
My price undetermined yet was bribed and bought.

Captivated and misguided, an unwitting child,
Through their empty promises I became beguiled,
Submitted to regulations, allowed myself to be led,
Tried to ignore conflict, and my vague sense of dread.
My obedience was weakness, undoing to show respect,
The only strength I found was to play the loyal subject.

She compels me onward in all-consuming greed,
Though I have strived to deny when I suffer the need,
To disregard thought, and emotion release,
I feel resolve waiving as my cravings increase,
There is no substitute; distraction succeeds on occasion,
But in past this proved merely a temporary evasion.

Causing compulsion when acts are complete,
Her triumph accomplished, is my final defeat.
She leaves me when I conclude the devastation,
To lay my hands on the mirror, see myself, the abomination.
Eyes once noble mahogany, now bloodshot from the strain,
And sickly green; witness to my reflected distain.

She discards me, the used shell after,
To lie like a crumpled cellophane wrapper,
Shivering on the floor, amid the scum,
Look with lucidity to see what I have become,
Limbs trembling, quivering, in a fit of reality,
Body is shaking as mind reels with clarity.

But comprehension equates not intent,
It is no freedom to simply repent.
To change direction when walking a tightrope,
Is to balance upon ever-thinning hope,
To wish it so, will not bring and end,
Though I want to climb, I still descend.

Questioning and doubting a once clear course,
Now in disillusion I succumb to remorse,
Tasting bitter reminder of recent indulgence,
I refuse to speak out in my own defence.
It describes such cliche to feel so trapped,
Yet no other metaphor could be so apt.

For when crimson stains the putrid mass,
The horrific truth has come to pass,
Ruining the body in tainted act,
Realisation resounds on impact,
The price I am paying is a cost too dear,
Body's decline finally instils appropriate fear.

The severity of my affliction hits with force,
From this burden I now wish to divorce.
I do not want dissociation in entirety,
Merely distance from my tormentor, my idol, She.
Unfortunately there exists no easy solution,
It is a personal battle, requiring resolution.

In desperate cry I plea for assistance,
I admit I need help to instigate resistance.
My life will be payment as penance for my sin,
If misdeed I commit to re-invite wickedness in.
Only with determination can I hope to prevail.
Apprehension strikes when efforts prove to no avail.

In abject terror of endeavours in vain,
I am forced to confront inability to refrain,
Anxiety abounds when I can't trust my own intent,
To be reliant on unwillingness to cause disappointment,
So dependant on a barrier out with my influence,
Destructively hurtful when I must revert to pretence.

My final appeal is addressed not to fallen deity,
But simple request, to The Willing; Please, help me.