Her spine pokes through her sweater,
Descending petals of her sinking mind;
Down, down, still falling down.
Her collar bones are sharp and defined,
As she tries to hide her fading flesh.
Disappearing, disappearing, still disappearing.
Her wrists smaller than your eyes can believe,
How does it work; so small and fragile?
Tiny, tiny, still tiny.
Her shoulder blades stick out like wings,
They’ll carry her away into a winter world of white and grey.
Help, help, please save me.
With thighs as thin as her wrists, kneecaps jutting,
How can they support such a delicate frame?
Running, running, still running.
Summer brings sweaters, winter brings pain;
How does she live? Deteriorating in front of our eyes.
Breaking, breaking, still breaking.
She wasn’t in class today and her friends are worried.
I doubt they knew what was happening, but I had a vivid understanding.
Fading, fading, still slowly fading.
Maybe I’ll be even stronger, thinner even;
I’ll drop dangerously low, and I’ll finally be beautiful too.
Disordered, dying, dead.