Need for Perfection
A frail, bony body stands in front of a mirror.
Skin pale and sickly
No fat to be seen anywhere yet, eyes look all over and disgust shines through them with hatred
Scars scatter all over skinny wrists and red lashes are drawn out over bony thighs
Vacant eyes scan over these drawings and ignore them
Instead, fragile hands grip the toilet seat as hard as possible
While a skeletal chest leans over the hole
Thin fingers are forced down an emaciated throat and gag after gag fills the silent bathroom.
Hollow cheek bones sink into a mouth that heaves vomit until nothing else is left to be ejected
Bony limbs fall to the ground and create a mess of gaunt, pale body parts
Red is slashed here and there, puke is mixed with blood... The will to live is a thin line
The mirror still says not good enough
Body parts move around, pain is flown through every nerve
Imperfection is branded to every cell
Hollow eyes look in the mirror and revulsion burns holes in it
The need for perfection burns those same holes in such a sweet soul
But perfection is shown everywhere... That gaunt, sickly body just can't see it.
