The Destructor of Self-Image

Who'd have guessed?
A perfect flaw,
in a seemingly perfect person?
Crying at night,
screaming names so overused
that they are simple nothing now.

Then steel taints the sting,
so sweet to her senses and flesh,
is the pain.
Pleased, one more can't hurt,
no one suspecting her new addiction.
Soon she'll jump in,
black mascara becoming darker,
her eyes glazing at the feeling of nothing.

One moment,
she loved it all.
The next no one saw coming.
It led to her downfall,
so she clutched and cried to be free.
Her savior had then left,
and struggling alone,
her eyes opened to the mirror.
There she stood, watching herself,
the true destructor of self-image.

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© KayD [2006]