Poem

A skeletal imprint has left it's mark on my mind.
How it got there is unknown, why it's there terrifies.
Meals are an avoidance, it's all a game I've learned to play.
The more food, the stronger I grow; the weaker my body, the better I am.
As sweet as the sugar once had been, the more sweet I feel to defeat the taste.
As I feel I am crashing, my life is now lost on nothing but death.
The twist it creates, the catch that it has.
The hold on starvation, should suffering, self-hatred.
I don't know what it is, but it is all that I have; a life that I never thought I would have lead.
A trick, it's a game, a game that is no longer fun.
I wake without sleeping to a life that is numb.
Without even knowing life has changed and is no longer.
The success from the torture, the triumph from the pain.
My bones are still standing, with effort that is draining.
Anorexia is acceptance then hate; I am no longer a being, just potential gone wrong.