There's a moth on the window, and it's looking at me,
I'm wondering how much of me it can see.
Can it see my fat thighs? My double chin?
Can it see my rib-cage protruding through my skin?
There's a moth on the window, and it's watching each step I take,
I am wondering how many moves I should make.
Can it see my stomach? My tires and rolls?
Can it see my cheekbones? My paleness and hollows?
There's a moth on the window, and it's spreading its wings,
I am wondering how it sees, all these ugly things.
Can it see my kilos? My back-side of doom?
Can it see my sickness? My empty room?
There was on moth on my window, but it's now flown away.
I am wondering why that moth didn't stay.
Did it see my fat thighs? My double chin?
Did it see me kill myself to be thin?
