as she realises,
she screams for help,
but it is too late,
her screams die out,
she is slowly suffocated by sadness,
murdered by her own mind.

are we dying to be skinny,
or are we dying,
to be skinny.

as she lies there,
in the eerie silent room,
she starts to realise,
the horrible truth,

even though she loathes the voices,
that live inside her mind,
she also craves them,
and they crave her,

they feed off each other,
support each other,
like a vicious life cycle,

and with that thought,
she suddenly gives in,
breaks down all the walls,
which took her so long to prepare,

the room,
once silent,
was now teeming with them,
the voices,

**were here to stay.

'back where i come from,
we believe in all sorts,
of things that aren't true,
we call it history'  

- the wonderful wizard of oz