i bet you never think or ponder of everything she's done,
i bet you just can't fathom how much she pushes, how she runs.

i wonder if you notice how her plate is clear,
when she goes to hide and purge, do you pretend you just can't hear?

the calories she counts don't add up to par,
she's constantly in pain, but without one single scar.

each panic in her head is one involving weight,
and when it comes down to her body, every thoughts' involving hate.

she's trying so hard to hide her fear,
a patch of fat, some blemished skin, the end is no where near.

she's got a fast metabolism? - that's just another fib.
she wants to see all of her bones, to count her every rib.

i can't help but assume you don't know her well,
you see her pretty body and think she's doing swell.

where you see glowing beauty, she sees extra pounds,
where you see health and happiness, she's stuck feeling down.

her friends, they hardly notice how she never eats,
she says she's just not hungry to each new person that she meets.

she sees the models on tv, she sees them on the cover,
she wants to look just like them, or else no one will love her.

on the outside she is pretty, a result of all her work,
but her self-image is at rock bottom, it's her biggest quirk.

she's fading down to nothing, her hips protruding out,
her shoulder blades are broken wings, an angel, there's no doubt.

her spine's a jagged mountain, hidden beneath her shirt,
i hope now that you see just how much words hurt.

she just wants to be perfection, to be the ideal,
she's never going to get there, no matter what you feel.