Thinking I was such a wretch
I’d do nothing but eat,
hiding in the car or sneaking food
when everyone else slept
or while I cleaned the kitchen.
I’d about eaten myself
into a plus-sized casket.
Hating myself, blaming others,
miserable, I let thoughts of food
eclipse all else, wallowing
in wretchedness.
It could have ended there,
a Greek tragedy acted out,
but like the cowboy riding in
to rescue a damsel in distress
hope happened, release came,
and twelve simple steps saved me.