The perfect girl?

She was pretty,
she was thin,
her perfect body,
her perfect skin.
Blonde hair,
and big, blue eyes,
long legs
and skinny thighs.
"She could be a model!"
that's what they all said,
but no one knew
that on the inside she was dead.
When she looked in the mirror,
pain, hurt, disgrace,
she couldn't stand
to see her own face.
Her reflection scared her,
it showed someone fat,
what had happened to the girl
that once was all that?
She felt like a failure,
she felt like dirt,
she was the only one who didn't see
the rib bones through her shirt.
This wasn't it,
this wasn't who she wanted to be,
she couldn't imagine the skeleton
everyone else seemed to see.
She took the sharp knife,
down from the shelf,
standing there,
miss Anorexia herself.
Her eyes,
as dark as coal,
her heart,
a big, black hole.
Her skin,
so very cold,
too many secrets
left untold.
She couldn't do it,
she was too weak,
more and more tears,
streamed down her cheek.
To her, inner beauty
was just a silly phrase,
no one cared about that,
they all wanted a pretty face.
No one there,
to tell her she was wrong,
to hold her hand,
and help her stay strong.
No one to tell her
everything would be okay,
and that all this pain
would soon go away.
On the inside she had died,
a long time ago,
yet no one saw,
her happiness was all a big show.
No one knew anything,
that all this time she had been lying,
now pretty girl lays on the floor,
pale, skinny and dying.
Maybe if someone had bothered,
to ask if everything was okay,
this girl would still
be alive today.

So many girls are anorexic these days - my own sister is. That's what made me write this poem. Remember, only because a person looks happy, doesn't mean that he/she actually is.