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Little hands, little feet
float along the street
skinny thighs, persistent lies
all used to disguise
her slow demise
Size double zero
becomes her hero
as her jeans fall to the floor
envious glares from the size fours
Not even the smallest hold her upright
fingers clenched so tight
bracing for the pain
it is the same day after day
It is not even about being the thinnest
only the best
the best at absolutely nothing
as nothing is all she is
Hollow to the core
her body is aching and sore
words are slurred and eyes red
surely she is dead.
Categories: Poetry
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