Tears roll down from eyes to the ground;

They tickle my cheeks and chin, yet I am not smiling.

As my face becomes wet; my hands become soaked

in a crimson liquid, and the smell of iron runs up to my nose

Music fills the air as if the atmosphere itself was made of

sorrowful, slow, and harmonic vibrations.

 

Vibrations come from the center of my body,

my stomach cries to be filled, yet it is hollow.

Obsession and anxiety create incantations in my head

bewitching me to a life of skin and bone, They say:

"200, 175, 150, 130, and now you go down to 100."

This is the veil of illusion known as perfection.

 

Leave me, leave me

I can't take this anymore; my mind is a tempest

of illusion, illness, and death.

One pill, two pill, red pill, blue pill, yet

which one shall kill.

My eyes close slowly, and my body goes numb.

 

The sheets morph from white to red

blades hit the floor, and the emptiness within

me is finally put to rest, and the tempest has

subsided. One last tear falls on a sheet of paper with the words

"I'm sorry" written across it's folded surface.

Eyes close shut, and there is nothing but oblivion until

Finally it's over forever.