Not everyday is a good day when it comes to this journey. No matter how much I want it to meet success every single day, it just doesn't happen. In fact, some days are just plain ugly. Today was an ugly day for me. And in the despair I felt, I wrote this poem:
"I can't do this," she cries, but nobody hears.
Sick of their lies she covers her ears.
If you just do this, or you just do that,
You'll lose the weight in no time flat.
But she doesn't believe them. She's lost in this place.
Too many fears etched on her face.
She just wants it gone. She's losing her mind.
It's a demon, a disease; no peace can she find.
She cries and she prays. The tears have gone dry.
How many more times can she say "Dear God, why?"
Obesity eats away as it continues to enlarge.
It's more than just gluttony, the food is in charge.
Can you hear her screaming? Why can't anyone tell?
Why can't you see her strength growing frail?
She's run out of songs. She's run out of words.
She's run out of tunes before even being heard.
She blames it on this, her private demise.
Baffled and trapped in some dark compromise.
She fears if she's not found, she'll lose it for good.
She hates. She loathes. She despises. Food.
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