115 is such a large number
I shy away from its implications
110 is perfection.
To be perfect, I strive
Insatiable and paralysed by effort
Plants need the sun, they say
What to do with these clouds?
Their permanence and predominance
I grow envious of my own shadow
Is there no scale to measure this?
They're so sure I'm wasting away
But 105 would be ideal
I've been betrayed by all these numbers
In England, I'd be going broke
I wish for weight to equal worth
Let me play my ribcage xylophone
And dance with dizziness
Dysthymic steps away from fear
If you're hungry, eat
I wish it were this simple
100 would make me complete
I need to exercise this demon
I feel him sitting in my stomach
The pregnancy I want aborted
Without control, I might seize
I've got to stick to this diet
Am I thin or am I insane?
What did you think
Comments
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This poem is very agonizing. it has a lot of powerful and raw emotion in it. It's very cynical I think as well. I love it, though. I think you did an amazing job at writing this piece of poetry. Great Job
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this is a spiralled-twisting wondrous dark piece of poetry which you have penned that shatters the angles of fluted sighs, the pain and the anguish ruffle the mind as the spirit slips into agony's vortex to scream wrong shapes across the spirit's dead-eyed chasm.
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welcome to all poetry
Such a mania to this...too thin, too fat, just right, who knows? Great take on this topic!
♥
Shawna
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