In front of the mirror she stands,
The shaking is eminent upon her hands,
The clock strikes nine and loudly she weeps
"I'll be pretty enough soon" is the promise she keeps,
She unlocks the door for a day filled with hate,
For the monsters inside scream out her fate,
The clock strikes twelve and she's skipping her meal,
"Just this one last time" is the unwritten deal,
The clock strikes three and she's too tired to speak,
The lack of a balanced diet has made her weak,
The clock strikes eight and she's out like a light,
Her wings are growing thin too tired for flight,
Awake again at the morning moon,
She says; "I'll be pretty enough soon".

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That was beautiful. 

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