Nothing

Each day, you’re wearing away
Your flesh and your fat; your mind and your soul
Pound by pound it rips away pigments of who you are
Days spent counting calories and fighting them off
Until you are only a body, nothing to suggest there is
A person cradled inside of those frail bones
And what person starves them self of all happiness
in search of happiness?
You wake up, and repeat the actions, like a skeleton set on autopilot
Food; trash, fingers; throat, body; sweat, eyes; cry
There is nothing left of you;
You are a disorder