I’m not a skeleton,
but that doesn’t mean
I’m not dying.

I wish I could tell them
about the war in my head.

I make it look like I eat
but I wish they could see through that.

I’m starving myself, I know it.
But they don’t realize it,
they don’t want too.

Parts of me want to get better,
but I can’t.

I’m losing control
I did 3 years ago
But they don’t want to realize it

I’m screaming out to them,
but they don’t hear me.

Mom thinks I eat more
than I say I do,
but I don’t.

People don’t realize I’m sick,
mentally and physically,
because I’m not a skeleton

Their ignorance hurts,
but I can’t get them to understand.
They don’t want to understand.

They want to pretend I’m okay,
they don’t want to hear
what I have to say.

My screams are silent
but they are obvious to them,
if they should just listen.

Because I’m not a skeleton...