I will whittle
myself away
and take away
all the pain
that's been
weighing me down
and when you look
at me
all that you will see
is beauty and brains
and when you look
in my eyes
you will see
my soul
it is buried
beneath
the marrow
that sits
in my bones
and i will push
them to the surface
so that maybe
you will see
beneath all of my demons
there lies the good in me
I will whittle
myself away
until only
the beauty remains
and when nothing
but beauty is left
no residual flesh
the soul will at last be free
so sad
and so strange
that the freedom
is killing me
but when you see
my frame
my skeletal remains
you will finally
understand
what it means to be me
the world my eyes see
and you will learn to adore
the simple fact
that some things
are worth
killing yourself for.

it's time
for me to open
up the book
to bend the spine
to write new notes
on those glossy
white pages
to blow on the sheets
as the black ink dries
to pen a new story
with that traditional
beginning
and a new ending
an ending that evolves
slowly
unraveling
the heroine
a monologue
perhaps
telling the tale
of the hidden plot
the baggy clothes
covering loose skin
sharp bone
protruding
in her hips
and ribs
and knees
how she camoflauged
her secrets
and buried her pain
wrapped herself in it
embraced it
and loved it more
than anything
or anyone
a new religion
a chapter devoted
to her inner struggle
one devoted to her inner peace
one to her demons
and one to her gods
one to the feel
of porcelain
one to the knowledge
of hunger
another to society
with its blinders
and praise
and one to herself
a letter perhaps
a eulogy even
congratulatory
celebratory
a comforting end
to an awesome struggle
and a traditional beginning