E.D.

Standing in front of my mirror

Shaking like a chihuahua in the cold

Scared of the blank face staring back at me.

Driving down a dimly lit road

Distracted by the flickering street lights and pattering rain

Deflated by the world around me.

Picture perfect prettiness.

Scissors become a friend,

snipping away every part of myself until I'm nothing but a lifeless, colorless corpse.

Friends become strangers,

2 AM calls making sure we’re ok to 2 AM scrolling on instagram and seeing they’re engaged.

Forks turn into enemies,

making it difficult to look at and acknowledge their existence.

Plates turn into torture,

like a daunting death row sentence that never seems to come.

12 o’clock is feared

7 PM is hell

Skin dissolves into blood boiling hatred

Scars resemble the peace of a dove.

Reflections cause breakdowns

reflecting invites self-loathing

Is there a world in which eating is a part of life?

I’m in a world where it’s a part of death.