Every morning, I leave no trace,
And you'd never see past the smile on my face.
You might have asked, and I might have lied,
Truthfully, these are the marks of an angel longing her return to the sky.

Every evening, I argue with the mirror,
Wondering if I should shower right after dinner.
The glass of water in my room becomes all too tempting,
And now I'm caught in a vicious cycle, addicted to feeling empty.

Every night, my heart bickers with my brain,
It's a debate between common sense and ceasing the pain.
When my eyelids grow heavy and my heart slows its pace,
I wake up the next morning and make sure there's no trace.



Tuesday 9 July 2024