I once was soft,
Round faced,
And pleasant.
Now I’m all elbows
And knees.

A stone statue;
Made by novice hands that,
In their haste to perfect,
Crafted only hard sides.

In my need to belong,
I sought to become
Nothing but angles
and sharp corners.

Yet,
now I’m half the size,
I fear I might be half the person,
and my bones leave bruises
to remind me I’m gone.

I wish I could be soft again
But each meal shows,
And critical eyes seek to
Chastise each part
That dares to be anything but
bone.