Food: The Drug of the Heavy

Mon, 08/19/2013 - 13:18 -- anaboat

Location

Food doesn’t hurt me.

It doesn’t tell me anything bad.

It doesn’t push me around.

It doesn’t make me sad.

But it does make me more round.

 

Food helps me feel better.

I eat when I’m mad.

I eat when I’m bored.

I eat when I’m glad.

But I don’t always feel restored.

 

Food helps me forget.

I forget people hurt me.

I forget family problems pile.

I forget school to some degree.

But only for a while.

 

Food is my drug.

It doesn’t hurt me,

But it makes me rounder.

It helps me feel better,

But not restored.

It helps me forget,

But only for a while.

 

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741