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There's a man on my shoulder, who tells me I should purge and starve, so I can make myself look pretty, and look like a superstar. I don't know if he's an angel, the devil, or my friend, but I know that I'll obey him until I'm  paper thin.

Mornings filled with hunger pains, Blood slowly dying in my veins, Exercise then fall to the floor, Haul body up then work out more, Chest growing tight and lungs are weak, Head to tired for tongue to speak, A mirror hanging in the hall, What I would give to have “it all”, With every bite of food I fail, Body and spirit growing frail, Silently dining from an empty plate, Life measured out in height and weight, Pangs of guilt as pride begins to grow, Rib and hip bones clearly now show, Each extra inch breeding despair, Body and soul now running on air, Staring as the mirror is now too tough, Because nothing will ever

Picture perfect How thin can you go? Up for a challenge? Painful and slow. Waiting it out Obsessed with forbidden Skip one more meal Keeping secrets hidden Insomnia increases Watching seconds tick Saying you're not hungry Denying you're sick Grinding teeth Vision wavering Tastes long forgotten You're still savoring Standing outside Feels so cold Approaching blackness Then legs fold Hospital bed Haven't awoken Tearing eyes Lives are broken