Nervosa - Poem, unfinished.

The girl in her reflection is not the one I saw.
The girl in her reflection everyone adores.
The girl in her reflection counted every flaw.

 The girl in her reflection hates every inch of skin.
 The girl in her reflection her emaciates within.
The girl in her reflection yearning to be thin.

 The girl in her reflection is now the one I see, the girl in her reflection is who I wish to be.
 Bones, scars, porcelain skin. 
To only explain how wrong she was- now where would I begin?