I eat,
again and again.
chasing nothing but the action,
fear of boredom,
fear of what I’ll feel if I don’t eat.
I eat past the point of sickness,
I lay there and wait to consume again.
an odd form of torture,
a game I’ve played,
a million times before.
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Author:
applecherry (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2026 10:43
- Comment from author about the poem: I’ve always struggled with food, using it as a coping mechanism for my feelings, while I’m aware of my patterns, I struggle to prevent it from happening
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments1
A poetic expression of food substituted for something else missing. Well done
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