He never knew the girl that wrapped her body in self-pity the nights she spent alone with no one else to warm her, blaming herself for every bad thing in her world.

He didn't know the girl that bathes her self in tears the nights she's too afraid of her self to shower because it was the only place her thoughts had a clear shot at every part of her being.

He never knew the girl that wouldn't eat in the morning because it made her feel sick. Wouldn't eat in the afternoon because she had work to catch up on. Wouldn't eat at night because she was too tired the days before she would see him.

He didn't know the girl that whenever she said she was 'sick' it was from searching the bottom of her stomach. Removing any vice form her mortal she could find. And not because of the flu.

Even her herself never knew the girl that felt so out of place in the world that she believed she shouldn't be there.

She'd wake up hours later dazed from the happenings before,
her head lightened from the pounding of her skull against her walls.

She'd wake up with no recollection of the buckets of tears she tried to drown herself in or the breaths she lost from smothering herself until she fell into unconsciousness.

She wouldn't remember trying to erase her imperfections she would only wake up to them multiplied.

She'd tell her self it was okay and that she knew she was beautiful, that she knew she was important to this world. Forgiving herself for the way she's been treated and feeding her mind empty promises of change.