In a world that measures worth in lines and curves, She withered, her voice lost in unnerved murmurs. Empty plates, her constant friends, In pursuit of a perfection that never ends.

Her laughter faded, her eyes grew dull, Chasing a whisper, her heart once full. Each step weighed, a silent plea, Invisible chains, no one could see.

Then came the day, under the glaring sun, Her fragile frame gave way, the battle undone. Alone she fell, with no one near, Her silent cry, too faint to hear.

Found too late, in the quiet shade, Her dreams unfulfilled, in the grave they laid. A cautionary tale, her story weaves, Of lost battles, and fallen leaves.

This ballad, a tear for the dreams we chase, Reminds us to find beauty in our own grace. Her shadow lingers, a sorrowful muse, Urging us to love ourselves, and not to lose.