~ a.n.a

295 12 0
                                    

She cannot bare the sight of her own
reflection,
Yet she cannot tear her eyes away.
Every inch, every pound, every flaw,
Growing harder to look at each day.

Now she feels in control,
When in reality, she's lost it.
She is dying from the inside,
At the twisted beauty's cost.

Trapped in Ana's demented vision,
She is consumed by her fear.
She can no longer escape,
Only wait for death to draw near.

Meaningless:: a collection Where stories live. Discover now