She starves herself to only look as skinny as the girl standing next to her,

She forces herself to binge and purge and binge and purge, a vicious cycle that not only eats away at her body,

But nibbles its way into her mind and soul, 

Desperate for self acception and satisfaction,

Lethally needy to look as thin as she sees herself not.

He glances at himself in the mirror, seeing his mockingly reflection,

The words of his peers linger over his dulled apperance,

His blackened existence, 

All coming back to color, recarnating as the knife slices so easily, 

Pinches into his wrists, piercing them, as the crimson blood spills and pours,

The only sense of color in his life for the longest of time. 

The bottle of remainding pills spill onto the sheets, 

As she lays motionless, slowly fading into eternity,

The waves of invisibilty and lostness surge over her, but this time the pain is dulled,

This time, it is too late, for she is already gone,

The only time attention points her way is when she is dead,

Now why is it that the only time the invisble are noticed is when they are no longer elgible for their sorrow to reach them?

All so preventable, but the damage and their absence is eternal.