A Paling Ana'

In this role of confidence,
there is an empty plate,
That ana tends to fill,
With thin aspirations,
that still satiate me,
with guilt and shame.
As I've turned down,
yet another perfect meal.
Still my eyes they look void,
even though they should be,
Happy
With my progress,
but,
I'm come so far learning to,
hold down my emotions,
but I'll still,
bring up my food.
With every bone closer to perfection.
I'll continue to starve them,
and feed my soul,
and maybe one day,
I'll be loved for my bones.
And praised for my,
Perfection.