When I nibbled at the edges,
chipped away at pieces,
ate just one, a small bite,
got away with it…or so it seemed…
a pattern emerged, and grew,
swelled, blossomed.
A disease, a malady
with symptoms others didn’t see
but I knew. And shame grew.
And patterns were set
until I sought the cure
for the dreaded old disease,
I got away with it-ism.