'The Lost Year' Poem by Ronald Clark

The meaning is hidden
The point is unclear
Only the clever mind
With a careful eye
Will see past all the fear

Many books have been written
And poems have been read
Will they bring comfort
Or will it give me pain
Am i safe here in my bed

I close the curtains
The gray, gray curtains
I am safe in my artificial night
Alone with you, my poem
This is the right way, Im certain

Oh my God,
Im faced with my biggest fear
I've lost you
You're gone
This is your Anorexic Year

Please come back
You'll soon recover
You and I, a real bestseller
Our titles match with each other
My poem and I, together forever