Your shoulder blades weren't wings to fly to freedom.
And your ribs weren't ladders to your struggling heart.
Your sunken eyes weren't beautifully painful.
And the sun didn't shine life through the gap between your thighs.
You were dying baby, finding beauty in your self demise.
Killing yourself with every morsel of food you denied yourself.
Don't miss the person you were when the monster lived through you,
Eating away at your wasting body,
Sucking the life from your hollow cheeks.
Miss the person you were before
Oblivious to the toxins of the disorder that stole you away.
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