Mother Dearest: My thoughts that seemed too sad to keep to myself

When I learned to Count

My Mother Dearest stopped calling me beautiful once I believed it.

You reached for my flesh and bones. Chewed on my skin until it shed.

You ate my body while you locked the pantry.

Peeled my grapes and counted my chocolate chips.

When I learned to count you stopped loving the idea of me.

I am so hungry.  

I will let you feed me with a scorpion tail.

Please. Tell me I'm beautiful.