Blue veins hug my hands and neck
My thin hair, a bunned-up wreck
I trace a picture of malnutrition
But, to me, there is no condition
Everyone either says one or the other
It’s their consensus but I’m left smothered
So I’m stripped down to my fatty core
But all they say is “put on more”
How I’d love to take a bite
But then they would get to win the fight
And what am I left with, even if I won?
A bag of bones with ribs like none
But I’m healthy, so I know what they mean
Even though that’s not what I’ve seen