The wind blows through my stale hair.
My breaths are tight as I adjust to the new weight.
When did I last eat?
who knows...
I feel my stomach,
I don't even have to **** in
to feel my ribs
and other inner things.
These pants used to be tight
but look they're baggy,
a sign of accomplishment.
Look at me
I'm looking frail
I feel so skinny
I feel so beautiful.
The hungrier I am
the happier I am,
the more I feel one day
I will be okay to look at.

My body tells me to eat,
eat everything in sight
keep eating
and once you're full
eat some more
and more
even when you're burst
and your innards trail the floor,
it's best to keep eating,
even when you hate the taste.

It's always on my mind,
the hunger never stops,
so as long as I feel hungry,
I'll sew my mouth shut so
maybe one day it will end.

The hungrier I am,
the happier I am.
No one will ever call me fat again
they'll never say I'm ugly,
I'll never cry again
so long as I don't look in that mirror.
Because today,
I feel so skinny,
I'm starving and ill
but it's okay because I'm getting pretty.
I threw up that
and I threw up this
but it's okay because I'm getting pretty.
I either eat everything
or eat nothing at all,
all or nothing
my brain won't accept anything else.

But it's okay because
I can't remember when I last ate,
and I feel my ribs
and I'm skinny and-
I look in the mirror
and I'm still so fat.
So I'll sit down and cry
and workout some more.
Tempted to take a grater
and peel the fat off layer by layer.
Because fat isn't pretty,
and skinny is.