She's silhouetted against a stark nothing.

You can see where the tear rolls down her cheek

And the skin clings to her bones as she bends down.

She's starving herself.

She doesn't realize she's in pain.

All she knows is she's "pretty",

And that's all that matters.

Never mind that she can't breathe when she walks,

Will never smile when she talks,

To her, focus is a thing of the past.

But she's in no danger from herself.

After all, animals can be confined

And the beast clawing for freedom in her stomach

Could not possibly reach her heart.

It only draws a little blood up her throat.

"I'm fine," she tells herself,

Not knowing it's a lie.

Each meal skipped is one closer to death-

A death row of confusion,

Where instead of hand choosing the last meal she eats,

She can't remember the last one she kept down.

Each hand reaching out to her

Just turns into another finger down her throat

Because she doesn't realize she's desperate.

Instead, she stands up,

Smiles and laughs,

Smears a bright red on her lips,

And dies three hours later.