Off shoulder: it now hangs loose,
the bands of blue lopsided hoops,
bra one size down (and counting).
This t-shirt measures her,
a testimony of inner strength
as she fights the fat that binds the wounds
that scar her heart that beats her awful misery.
She will smile for them, those who laugh and jeer,
shout ugly names with carefree ease in an effort to deride her.
She will smile as if she doesn’t care, whilst deep deep down
(their ugliness) racks up the pain inside her.
She has learnt to wear this face to hide her hurt
from even those well-meaning, those kith and kin
who even they, fail to see to feel her pain within
and offer platitudes, as if some alternative to caring.
She takes pride in her few pounds lost,
accepts the praise but knows this pleasure will be fleeting,
for Black Dog he will come again, tear up her heart cloud up her mind
and her only comfort will be in eating.
Susan at Poets United has us writing of masks and above is my offering. Cheers for the inspiration Susan!
(Black Dog = Depression)
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Ramesh NG