On Beauty

 She's pretty, the way her face curves into her smile when she's
Tired, tired and hungry
But she won't eat because she's
Starving, starving for the touch of
Something something unattainable something that's not
Hers, she whispers to herself that if she just skips
One, one more meal flushed down the toilet
She sits, sits stranded in the mind of a basic
Stranger, he whispers that she's beautiful but
His blonde girl who contrasts his brunette can't speak
Never can be heard, never can be seen, she's
Hungry, hungry, hungry, she can't speak because her throat is too sore
The swirl of the smell of rancid self hate
Permeates on her face she
Sobs and screams and yet
Yet she still craves him as much as she
Craves her demise