Each time I look in the mirror I see things;
A distorted vision is what you bring.
I should be able to simply eat food:
But too many times I was told I was no good.
The scales where you show those horrible numbers.
I shake my head and start to wonde;r
Will I ever lose enough weight to be happy?
Probably not because happiness seems to exit my psyche.
What you do is kill in a way that’s called murder;
You always make promises that you won’t hurt her.
But piece-by-piece you break her down:
Lying to her about how that special number can be found.
But that number is not there because it’s constantly changing;
To reach the unattainable goal there is no ending.
Strive for perfection that doesn’t exist;.
I can kill for just trying “oh it doesn’t miss.”
So get ready to have pain and die in perfect order:
Your battle is with an illness called an Eating Disorder.