Her smile is now a frown.
Her hamburger is now a salad.
Her tank tops are now sweaters.
Her long hair is now pulled back.
Her sparkling eyes are now dull.
No one asks if she’s okay.
But now her salad is an apple.
And her sweaters are getting bigger.
And her frown is getting deeper.
And her hair is falling out.
And her eyes have trouble staying open.
No one is asking if she’s okay.
So now her apple turns to nothing.
And her sweaters engulf her body.
And she hasn’t smiled in months.
And she wears a wig.
And she sleeps instead of going out.
Now they ask if she is okay.
And she’s not. Hasn’t been for a while.
Except now…it’s too late.
No one notices until it’s too late (original poem by skinnyrelease)