Pretty petty perfection,
Looking at my reflection,
Wishing for any form of validation
That my suffering means something.
My body burning, aching
From last nights purging.
Oh how much worse it could have been.
Going out of my way to seek attention
That I  desperately need
While not wanting it at the same time.
People judge,
But they do not see.
They don't see what's behind the suffering.
They don't see the burning
All over my body.
They do not see me crying myself to sleep every night.
They don't see me holding on to everyone tight,
In hopes that maybe they won't leave
Maybe it's a way of feeling better about myself,
To see how well I can hide so much pain,
But it's better to hide the mess in a closet
To appear clean