A poem
like a buzzing alarm clock
woke me up this A.M.
Ripe to be written -
Here's the poem.
Hello world I'm born again.
Washed of paint, of caffeine
and stripped of paint, of food.
See, I'm a different shape -
I say "no" more often
and really I'm just one sore nerve
without the covering of chocolate.
So who am I now?
Gads, I don't know;
but to find out,
I'll pick up the pieces
of neglected contacts
and I'll feel my weight problem,
not just numb it out.
Yes, I was controlling my feelings
with food,
and I know how...
But for this hour - this day,
I'm not.