Saturday, March 28, 2015
To me, my body is now a foreign land.
From the size of my waist to the fingers on each hand.
As my torment changes to stabilized ills,
the number rises on each bottle of pills.
So jumps the number on my jeans and the scale.
Any attempt at weight loss will miserably fail.
My former curves have rounded out.
While I once thought I was "fat", I now have no doubt.
My bones weren't meant to hold this weight.
The health problems piling up just exacerbate.
Sleep apnea, joint pain, and now I snore.
Now fighting against a self-image that's poor.
The medicines that are keeping me alive
are smothering my chances to thrive.
Trying to take this as a blessing in disguise.
I will find a way to win and from the ashes, rise.