How could anyone love her?

A single moment in time, her head is tilted back in laughter

Used to disguise the moments later where the tears are from something more fragile.

A light huddled in the corners of her chest, begging to slip through the cracks

But all that comes out is a disheveled version of an ombred darkness.

Her head tilted now into a white ring of despair

Her halo beckons to be more than messy hair and thorns of streaked mascara.

How will the world ever know why she does this?

Removing the toxins of a bad day

After attempting to fill the void.

What was once a starvation is now a purge of guilt

A whole new scenario.

The vile discomfort tastes of nothing anymore.

It is almost too easy to get lost in the songs that play

While the four walls of the bathroom soak up more sound than harmonious melodies.

The heaving is more desperate and the cause is more hopeless.

Her body now aches

And her mind only wishes to be as empty as her stomach.

It’s a cycle.

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