Death By Anorexia

She wants flowers to grow from her wrists,
Instead of the blood that drips.

She's the sentences you never finish,
And every lie ever told.

She has a demon running through her mind,
His games are growing old.

Water for breakfast, lunch and dinner,
A cigarette for a snack,
She's getting so much thinner,
But all she sees is fat.

Her stomach lets out a groan,
Calling to be fed,
She lets out a moan,
She'd rather be cold and dead.

Her bones protrude,
She can barely walk,
She has no energy, 
Not even to talk.

She cries for help,
But no one can hear,
He says, "You're going to die, my dear.."

She lets out one last breath,
Before releasing her soul,
Her final thought was,
"At least I reached my goal."