pete10141748
Postaholic
With the sun still rising, in the East.
I awake again, this bloated beast,
I roll myself upright with a groan,
I hear my bedsprings creak and moan
Each stair upon my case does creak,
As I make my way downstairs to eat,
I pass the mirror in my hall,
And at myself I am appalled
Yet sitting at my dinner table,
I feel as though I am not able,
To stop myself, even with praying,
From eating this food, which I am inhaling
Alas, another day as fat,
Big ol’ Pete, that chubby chap,
Who sits in front of his PC,
Day after day, eating biscuits and tea
I wonder why this happened to me?
Did I do something inappropriately,
In a past life, a mild transgression,
Payment for which is this depression?
The sun’s now setting in the West,
And once again I do my best,
To make it home another day,
Without showing off the pit-stained grey
That is my shirt, from only sitting
On the 22, still it seems fitting,
That my numbered bus on which I ride,
Is almost that which I can’t hide,
A weight which overshadows life,
And bring me nothing but pain and strife
But something changed, I don’t know how
But I finally have the courage now,
To face myself for the first true time,
Admit my problem, get it in line
With the help of friends and great support,
From the online forum of the minimins sort,
I’ll finally be able to set free,
The man who lives inside of me
Fat Yesterday may have come and gone,
But nothing there is worth dwelling on,
Today I made my first big stand,
To get my weight back in my hands
And when enough “Todays” have past,
I’ll look forward to tomorrow at last,
And finally look at the “yesterdays”,
And smile, leaving them behind with a wave
I awake again, this bloated beast,
I roll myself upright with a groan,
I hear my bedsprings creak and moan
Each stair upon my case does creak,
As I make my way downstairs to eat,
I pass the mirror in my hall,
And at myself I am appalled
Yet sitting at my dinner table,
I feel as though I am not able,
To stop myself, even with praying,
From eating this food, which I am inhaling
Alas, another day as fat,
Big ol’ Pete, that chubby chap,
Who sits in front of his PC,
Day after day, eating biscuits and tea
I wonder why this happened to me?
Did I do something inappropriately,
In a past life, a mild transgression,
Payment for which is this depression?
The sun’s now setting in the West,
And once again I do my best,
To make it home another day,
Without showing off the pit-stained grey
That is my shirt, from only sitting
On the 22, still it seems fitting,
That my numbered bus on which I ride,
Is almost that which I can’t hide,
A weight which overshadows life,
And bring me nothing but pain and strife
But something changed, I don’t know how
But I finally have the courage now,
To face myself for the first true time,
Admit my problem, get it in line
With the help of friends and great support,
From the online forum of the minimins sort,
I’ll finally be able to set free,
The man who lives inside of me
Fat Yesterday may have come and gone,
But nothing there is worth dwelling on,
Today I made my first big stand,
To get my weight back in my hands
And when enough “Todays” have past,
I’ll look forward to tomorrow at last,
And finally look at the “yesterdays”,
And smile, leaving them behind with a wave
