Three Ways To Feel About Home

the hating:my palm does not run across my stomachwithout hitting several rolls of fatjust like I can never be happy for a momentwithout being stripped of itand I am the one strippingmy arms are so fat and my jollof isn't even sweetmeaningif I can't get married for my non existent beautyI also can't get married for my cooking skillsI keep hosting funerals in this dark caveI call a bodythe coming to terms:so what if I'm fatwho decided that being fat is unfit anyway?who was it and why were they given that power?this body may not beeverybody's standard of beautifuland they may hurl bad words at itbut it is mine, not theirswhy am I joining outsidersto be wicked to my own self?I'm betraying my own existenceI am stuck in this body and we are all we havethe earlier I start to accept itand make myself comfortablethe better for methe loving:I have realised thatin my affairsI am the only one that should matterI am thinkingmaybe if I start to see love in my own selfand shower my body with itmaybe my heart will be lighterI have been ungrateful becausethis body is mine and I did not pay for itit serves mewarms my soul on rainy daysadorns mefights for mehow can I not love this magicbestowed unto me