Her voice
shivers when she talks
An innocent soul
that she possesses
deprived of love,
carries self loathe within.
Her emaciated figure
stares back at her
the mirror lies,
the bones stuck out
yet too concealed to see.
Legs scrawny as twigs,
Hands weaker than her heart,
But her soul internally dead.
Scales lie to her,
or is she lying to her self?
Chasing pulchritude,
drove her to a hollow place
where everyone exists yet
no one lives.