When I look in the mirror ...
all I want to see is someone pretty looking back at me.
losing weight seems to be the only key,
then when I look in the mirror I'll see someone pretty looking at me.

Losing friends,
driving them to their ends,
when I cry I just need a friend,
a friend who can hug me and give me a lending hand.

This is not worth it:
to be in a dark tunnel and to just sit.
eating is not the end of the world,
at least that is what I was told.

Sitting all alone, in my room being so cold,
seems to be the only thing that would have sold.
I want to be happy ... that's all ... is it that hard? ..
do I have to wait for happiness to be sold???

Don’t call me beautiful,”
You say,
And most sincerely.
“I’m not beautiful, not yet.”
I look at you
Past the featherless scalds in your velvet wings
Past your dull, hell-bent halo with but a faint glimmer surviving
And into your eyes.
I see the hate and hurt in your flexing pupils
And try to protect you from seeing the same things in my own
Though I shouldn’t worry - your eyes are blind
Blind to what you’ve done to yourself, and
Blind to what you’ve done to me.
And I whisper for the thousandth time today
Patiently, stolidly still:
“No, you are.”
And I will say it a thousand more times
As I sit here
Helpless
Holding your limp head in my lap
And stroking your stale hair
Because you need to hear it
You need to know your (swan) song is heard.
Your last staggering, faltering note resounds in me forever
And I will help you, if only by saying once more,
“You’re beautiful.”