Relapse

There dwells a girl with a soul half-dead. Her bones protrude, her skin drawn tight, Her eyes, like wells of endless night.

She counts each calorie, each morsel scorned, In a dance with demons, her spirit mourned. A prisoner of mirrors, her reflection a curse, She starves her body, her hunger perverse.

Ribs jut out like jagged knives, Her silent screams, her secret lives. She feasts on emptiness, her hunger unbound, In a world where thinness is the only crown.

Her essence fades with every passing day, A ghostly figure in a world of decay. Her veins run cold, her heart a stone, In the kingdom of bones, she sits alone.

Yet even in her darkest hour, She clings to the illusion of power. For in her frailty, she finds control, As her spirit withers, her body takes its toll.

Oh, fragile soul, trapped in skin so frail, Your torment echoes through the veil. May you find solace, may you find peace, And from the shackles of starvation, release.