Here I am kneeling,

Trying to gain some perfection.

The stench of acid and food from today

Dances around my nose,

Asking for another surge through my body.

My beautiful makeup is running down my face

While I block out my sounds by turning on the shower.

“When will I stop? When can it end,” I think to myself

As more acid pours into the ceramic bowl.

The water swirls down and I clean the white seat,

Watching a piece of my soul disappear.

I wipe the remaining contents from my face

And step upon the platform.

This. This platform that decides it.

Decides my perfection.

The number is higher than this morning,

Making me take out a piece of metal kept on

The ledge of the bathroom door.

Accepting my fate, I drag it across my skin and watch

As bits of crimson begin to run across my arm.

This. This is the punishment I get.

The punishment for lacking perfection.


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