Disordered

I want to be so tiny, so small,
That I'd fit in your arms like a doll,
And you would hold me like a man should,
And make me feel loved and understood.

Maybe I soon could disappear,
My skin would slowly become sheer.
I'd fade and no one would notice me.
My body'd become starved perfectly.

Every ounce of weight I've lost,
Represents another battle fought,
Against the food that makes me unpure,
And the madness that I cannot cure.