Size 3

Yet another poem. This one is older, but whatevessss.

Size 3

My pillow's soaked, my eyes are red.
All these thoughts jumbled in my head.

The tears keep coming, they follow the pain.
For in this Hell is where I remain.

My face is tear-stained, my body can't feel.
So now I take comfort in this tiny pill.

Just to be thinner is all I want to be.
A size 7 doesn't work. I want to be a 3.

I don't care what it takes -- I won't even eat.
Because just like everyone else, I have a dream.

The dream of perfection. It's one little goal.
To love myself and body as a whole.