There's a little bug that crawls and eats inside my brain,
whispering, “if you don't taste, you'll be pretty, you'll be skinny, you won't gain.
It paints an image in my mind that distorts the masterpiece you all see,
constantly picking, pointing a finger and laughing its evil laugh at me.
The cry of hunger my belly screams is its favorite song,
for that's its cue that I haven't eaten in so long.
It won't be long before the replay button is pushed and it's lullaby will forever play on,
and when it does, it'll fall asleep for good, but I will be gone.