Running Bones

A figure emerges up ahead
as I'm absorbed in my own thought-
just skin over bones on toothpick legs...
what abysmal mental lies has this person bought?
She can't be eating much at all....
unless the cause is the ugly purge...
barely enough strength to shuffle her feet,
her demise seems on the verge.
What does the pic in her head look like?
How did it mutate into something demented?
An initial misfiring of truth
must sit as an image cemented.
Instead of seeing food as sustenance,
it must be viewed as the opposition;
will the truth set her free in time
from this debilitated condition?
Something triggered the unfortunate start
of this tragic mental game
as warped as the perspective is,
it's intriguing just the same.
When she does peek timidly in the mirror,
she must certainly see a distorted illusion...
whatever revelation may be needed here,
may she find healing from this delusion.