No, sir

Not me

Disorder’s not a word

That describes me


Why, sir

I have an airtight system

Methodically eating

Envy dipped in despair


Calorie count: 10


And, sir

I am human

And therefore I may stumble

Retracing my footsteps

To the robust fridge

And I may stand there

Feeling the cold, calorific air

Pores opening, absorbing



Calorie count: 469


But, sir

This is no cause for concern

For what goes in

Can come out

And in this lies sizable power


And yes, sir

I have made such

A big choice before

I made it

Till my throat was sore

And it hurt to swallow

Till it hurt to be still


Calorie count: 0


Why, sir

If you say such things

Then you really must not know me

I struggle to love myself

When there’s little to love

If I were to grow bigger

Then I would be compelled to love

All that too


And sir,

That is far too heavy

A burden for me

To have to carry

Quite literally


Please watch, sir

As drunken nights

That end in the forceful

Purging of drink

Fade into

Lonely nights

Which end in the sorrowful

Purging of weight


Dear, sir

I am afraid

My weakness has shown


Dear, sir

I am afraid

It is too late for me

To come back


Copyright notice:

© Zeinab Hassan Fawaz and Broken Dolls, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.


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