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.