Thanksgiving break, my grandma comes with a handful of insults 

"You're gonna balloon up," she said once. I said it was fine.

I thought I was fine, I brushed off crumbs of humiliation

but it was a grease stain, something I hate in myself

"You're gonna balloon up." floated in my head

I get the apps that tell me what to eat when

eat a tuna can, eat 5 cookies at 12 am

I want to take a shower but mirrors,

it taunts me with its metallic plate

my goals aren't healthy, I know

antidepressants are against me

losing a battle to have control

no control over myself

no control to be,











Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
My family
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