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[paxtecum]

She picks up her umbrella,
Heads out for the day
She walks out into the shade
No light will touch her translucent skin today. (Good intro)

Sweat wetting her black attire
as her body shrinks.
All of the fat she needs
melting away.

The wick.. almost gone. (I recommend removing this whole stanza or replacing it, ruins the rhythm of the poem)
A star in the room of her mind.
It is so far away, barely flickering.

She knows she is a skeleton.
She knows she must eat.
But she would rather disappear.
The stigma eats her away. (Loved this whole stanza)

An affliction of the mind?
She doesn't know how to turn it off.
A train station in her mind.
These racing thoughts.

So she walks.
The ocean stretches, reaching for her shoes.
She imagines washing her body
the way she washes her tools (How does she wash the tools?)

She can feel eyes piercing through her.
Eyes in her mind.
Her perception of the world. Her world.
A fragmented place. (I would suggest ending this line with a question mark at the end, it forces the reader to ponder about the poem more)

Everyone picks her apart.
But they don't exist.
A step forward, a few steps more.
The cold washes them into the abyss.

It doesn't silence her mind.
But it muffles the trains.
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