I'm nothing more than numbers on a scale,
Nothing less than a whale,
To your beauty I pale
In comparison, I fail.

I'm not as pretty
As the models on TV,
As the Instagram fashion pieces,
The ragdolls with features
So close to human
They feel almost real.

I'm loose inside my skin,
This cage of flesh and bone,
This prison of insanity
And harmful repetitions.

The gore I put myself through
Every day to stay thin
And to one day become pretty.
It all goes to waste
In a flaming dumpster of shame.

Starving myself daily,
Refusing any sustenance,
"I'm not hungry," I declare proudly,
Maybe one day it'll mean something.

My insides are drowning
In the litres of water and tea
I consume to desperately avoid
Gaining any extra poundage.

After enough time, It's over,
I end up ravenously searching,
Rummaging through the house
For every remaining scrap of food
Because I'm STARVING.

I eat thousands of calories
In only a few minutes,
Struggling to keep it down in time
To reach the bathroom to purge.

Hurled pathetically over the bowl
Viciously throwing up every morsel
Of food I consumed
In efforts to keep from gaining.

Stinging tears well in my eyes,
Seas stream down my face.
I choke on my own half-digested food,
Swimming in overconcentrated bile.

When I stand, I nearly faint.
I pass out upon walking.
I just want to be pretty,
Is that so much to ask?

I'm not good enough for myself,
Or anybody else for that matter.
I don't think a soul in the world
Could bear to stand with me.

I'm all alone.

The silence is deafening...
I try to scream to drown it,
But it just seems to amplify
The situation's dire hopelessness.

I'm falling in a hole of my own creation,
Slipping further down the *****,
Hiding from myself
In every camera, mirror, and pool.

I hate myself more than anything else,
And I want to be nothing.
I desperately wish to be a cage
Made entirely of bone,

An example to the ones
Who dare enter the same path as me,
The ones who hate themselves,
The friends of Ana.