The video played and I am…

I think, and stop,

because though I feel,

think and see the next word,

I… am at a loss.

 

The next word, is a plague

wrapping it’s hand

too choke destiny away

I am…

 

I remember long roads

riding with the family

“I am, I said… I am, I cried…”

but today, watching

the digital image of me,

flicker on the family TV

my disillusion is shattered,

And I… want to die.

 

None see what I

by sight

touched in disgust

sparked in fears

defecated from childhood,

 

I am…

The next word is a crass description

spoken of self, watched

from a televised mirror

I smile at my other, as I frown

my face, hiding my shame,

behind a mask of a clown.

 

I am…

Found more of myself

then I believed to be.

Fighting against

fistful’s of sweets I have been,

my finger licking self-security

war turned orally fixed,

since my early days.

Filling my belly I have

with emptiness and my belief

through sweat busting actions

in an effort to loose unsuccessfully.

 

By my sight uncorrupted,

I must to myself admit

I am… heavily

Stout, albeit rotund

and by myself

I now screamed,

 

I am fat…

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