nervosa

August 22, 2009
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the times comes,
when she's no longer ashamed
by the number on the scale.

it's so perfect,
so round,
so empty.

she can't help,
but to marvel
at its wondrousness.

so much time,
she had spent,
purging herself of poison.

she remained strong,
she proved her worth.
she persevered.

she can't stop
this downward spiral
she can't help it.

she just keeps going,
emptying, purifying,
resisting temptation.

she won't rest,
she won't stop,
she can't stop



until the number
on the scale
reads a fat zero.

she won't rest,
she won't stop,
she can't stop



until she's nothing
but a wisp of smoke,
floating away.

she won't rest,
she won't stop
she can't stop



until she's dust
in the coffin,
nothing at all.

she won't rest,
she won't stop,
she can't stop



until someone reaches out
gets her help,
saves her life.

she can't face it
all alone,
no one to help.

she can't stop
her extreme measures,
driving her to nervosa.

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