Poetry

Thin

Another day,

another number on the scale,

another disappointed sigh.

I can't even wear crop tops now,

halfway through the day,

I get self-conscious,

I cover up and cry.

I hope the mirror is a lie,

I hope I'm thin enough.

113 pounds isn't that heavy,

but I'm still the heaviest flyer,

I can still see fat.

I'll just not eat dinner tonight,

maybe then I'll see a difference.

Just a little longer.