Judgement

Mm, I really have no idea. I was bored and picked up A Dance of Sisters, not my usual kind of book, but whatever.

The hollows of her cheeks,
deeper and darker than a week before.
Her swanlike back,
now gaunt and grim
Skeletal fingers caress those legs,
once sure, smooth, strong.

Her arms, once willowy and lively,
a puppeteers marionette: twisting to the rhythm of life,
stilled, scarred, snapped.

Nervous shoulders, timidly awaiting judgement,
a pointy tongue, pressing into the
cracks and crevasses of her lipless mouth.
Pale eyes, shadowed.
Glassy, lifeless.

Finally, you're skinny enough.
Plie, arabesque?
not anymore.
Too weak to even walk.

A dancers goal is also 
a dancers downfall

Author's Note

I really hate the last two stanzas :c