Holes in my Fingers

I look into the mirror

At my slightly pale figure

As my face thins

From exhaustion

Nothing about my reflection

Is correct and never will be

As told by many

As comprehended by myself

I look into the mirror and see

Something that isn't me

So tell me now

How can I love myself when I don't know

who "myself" even is

I can only see myself through

the holes in my fingers

But my skin is healing up

I keep telling myself lies

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

But the writing on my hands

Says that I'm not

But now it's all I can see.