The DiseaseThe young girl fell on the bathroom floor,
fighting for every breath.
With every rise and fall of her chest,
she came ever closer to death.
Her white skin clung to her fragile frame,
her weak heart flittered like a sparrow.
The disease had rotted her flesh, her bones,
and has sucked out all the marrow.
Her gasp shattered the silence,
as she slipped away from life.
It was the punctuation of defeat,
it marked the end of her strife.
I could have ended this way,
dying for a grotesque cause.
I looked at myself in the mirror,
and only saw the flaws.
I monitored every bite I took,
I felt guilty when I ate at all.
My only aspiration in life.
was to be gracefully slim and tall.
And although I felt my vision was clear,
and the doctors were the ones that were lying,
I didn't see the protruding bones,
or the fact that I was dying.
My friends told me I seemed depressed,
they begged me to eat just one slice,
and when their pressure won me over,
a trip to the bathroom would suffice.
But then one day