i speak to you, supposed motherly figure
because the woman who gave birth to me can't make it
and i hear you speak over me because what i say is just not important or sustainable, so you say
'these snacks are so tasty, it's almost gone'
that's the only thing you can do in this house
eat
the only pleasure and enjoyable moment
'you should thank god'
god
sometimes there's no food in the fridge so that the woman who gave birth to me can re store her pills
sometimes i sit in my room and i stare at the two butterflies -blue and orange- stuck in my fan and i think how much i hate the body im in and the bigger cage my body is stuck in
i eat and i eat and i drink almost a whole bottle of coke so that the food comes out easily out of my throat as a daily routine because that's all you can do in this house
sit and stare at something that's been there for ages and just pretend and daydream about being happy
