Repulsive hands,
trace the cracks in the glass.
So delicate, and fragile,
the opposite
of the figure gazing at them.
Horrified by the mirror,
I pray,
to be just one pound lighter.
Knowing deep down,
it will never be enough.
My empty lungs
scream,
for release from this self-constriction,
and I shed a tear,
for this cycle is vicious.

Keira Ashley






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