choking insanity

hey skinny skinny

the boy, as lean as a mirror, reflecting the delusion of what he desires to be,
         skinny—skinny—skinny—skinny
and boys are never in the picture when it comes to
brittleing bones and fatal flaws and,
hey skinny skinny, don't you think about the future
because overcrowded thoughts about how we want to starve our soul haunts our dreams.
  the boy digs at the (his) unwanted rib cage of sickly,
weedy sticks for bones and,
hey skinny skinny,
stop your thinking 'bout tomorrow
he stares at his illusion and the mirror is cracked,
but it doesn't matter (too bad) his abhorrence is what's reflecting back to him.
  but his beauty and heavenly elements that blind the angels above don't matter to him, he only knows of the (nonexistent) deathly defect and scars.
and no one hears the boys cries of dysmorphia,
because they can't see past his appealing views on the outside, they don't know he's rotting and faint on the inside, hey, skinny skinny stop your thinking 'bout tomorrow you'll never make it like that

—
this is in my other poetry book called melody of you but anyways it's inspired by the song called skinny skinny by ashton irwin (all the underlines parts are lyrics)