You

You ask me as if you care what I say, But in the end, I know you'll want it your way. My thoughts and feelings mean nothing to you, As society sees it, nothing important is true. I starve, and I cry, but yet you walk by, Unable to see that I'm dying inside. Nothing I do ever seems enough I can't fill the void; I'm a diamond in the rough. My own body, I beat and I batter So that to you I may finally matter. The perfect picture, that's what you imagine, The things that I do you can't even fathom. To be the best, I take to my body With tools of abuse to make me less gaudy, For in the eyes of society, perfection is thin, I work to become less in my own skin.