130, and she’s sad- but she’s healthy, oh how she glows-

but she does not see it and instead sees a shameful, undeserving girl

staring back at her in that mirror that has seen it all like the eyes of God.

 

120, and she hurts- still sad, and tired, but still glowing. And oh, how she glows-

A beautiful, beautiful radiance of ivory-

but the monster only possible to see through light particles that form a reflection

tells her that she can go further,

that she’s okay,

that she needs to change.

 

115 and she is cold. She is sad. And oh, how she barely, barely glows,

but the beautiful power of the glow was replaced with a dull light that flickers and looks as though it is about to give up at any moment. The monster smiles.

She’s changing.

 

110 and she is quiet, she is alone, and she is sick. She is hungry.

There is no glow. The dull light is a consistent, low hum.

She makes little noise. She makes little movement.

The monster has her, and there’s more mirrors-

they cover the room. There are more monsters.

 

100 and she is nearly gone. Oh, how she used to glow.

She hears only the occasional beep, the sound of wheels down a hall,

and quiet, faint sobs. She sees only white and sometimes red.

She feels a slight pinch, then nothing. The monster won, and she’s changed.

 

90 and oh, how they miss my glow.

It has me.

I hear nothing. I see nothing.

I am gone.