The Token

Shower after dinner, napkin full of food. You don’t see anything, unless I shout it at you. No one sees the scars from waist to knuckle, but as I continue retching, my knees begin to buckle. As I walk the halls at school, my head begins to swim, it makes me smile, anything to make my waist trim. I take a seat as the black begins to close in, a few deep breaths, and count to ten. I get smaller and smaller, my hope to waste away, become so small, that disappear, I may. Someone told my naughty little secret, everyone thinks they know. My friend mia, they’ve never met, The one that helps when I feel low. They want to fix me, but I’m not broken, let me be free, tiny is the token.