I know these feelings are absurd,
but without their existence
I would have to trust my surreal past
not to lie to me.
A girl pretending to be fine,
as she whispered on silent ears
for any morsels of food,
but my guilt craves the hunger -
a punishment I must endure.
She stares at her reflection on the wall
every time my back is turned,
praying that a change will come,
because this sickness is becoming out of control.
But until the voice in my head
stops telling me that I need to starve
until I taste the blood of starvation,
I will carry on being the girl
who is always pretending
to be fine.
