Three times a day.
At least.
The fingers go down her throat.
The deeper, the better.
Let everything out.
The hate, the sadness, the sins- the food.
As disgusting as it may sound,
She feels clean once again.
'Brush your teeth,
Try avoiding the mirror,
It'll only curse you.
Hide it,
Don't tell anyone,
Now run.
Run.
As fast as you can.
Just do it.'
She won't pass.
She passed.
What's next?
Push ups? She can do that.
No I can't.
She failed.
Thought it would be easy,
After all,
I'm used to all those ups and downs in life.
Now I feel worse.

Three times a day.
At least.