I have many names,
by Katherine M. Hunt
Thin, describes my frame,
Kept hidden within,
Places I try to hide in.
Skin and bones are what you see,
Fit and trim are what reflects back at me,
Food is poisonous to me, you see,
Eating doesn't allow me to hide and flee.
If only I could get to be very small,
Others wouldn't notice me at all,
People wouldn't come to call,
Getting thinner, as my weight begins to fall.
Once very large and in plain sight,
Now so thin and without any might,
Fading away with each passing night,
Soon I'll be leaving, my body to give up the fight.