May 18, 2011
By Anonymous

There's a stranger in my mirror,
And I don't know why;
All I know is she's 'bout to break down and cry.
Voices in her head put her down,
She's tried of being pushed around.
She can heart it rumbling, but she tells herself she can't;
She curls up and ignores her stomach's chants.
There's so much behind that fake little smile;
Tough on the outside, inside a child.
She's sick, she knows;
She's worthless, it shows.
Her eyes slowly start to close
As she thinks of the scale's numbers she loathes.
She never thought she'd grow up this way;
She's thinking this will be her last day.
Starving for far too long;
Falling in love with death's silent song.
Suddenly, she remembers, she's just a little girl,
A girl who has tons to live for, not cut or hurl.
This time, death was just too late;
'Cause guess what? The little girl ate.

The author's comments:
Happy ending. Wrote when I was basically anorexic.

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