My pants are tight,
Tighter than ever.
I used to slip into them just fine,
Now I hold my breath.
The truth is a hard pill to swallow,
And I swallow it everyday.
Two of them actually,
In the morning, just after I eat.
I should think after all these years,
Some things would seep into the bloodstream.
But truths can take a lifetime to digest,
If the stomach won't cooperate.
So I'm left somewhere in between,
Like always.
Does it mean that I'm better now that I've gained weight?