Down and Out

Scarf it all down,
and puke it all up.
Some say it's a curse,
but I say it's luck.
Too bad I value the pearls.
Too bad I wanna hurl.

My throat's always sore.
Even my bile's chanting soar!
"Do you want some more?"
Mommy's asking by the door.

I'll never say no,
with knees pressed to the ground,
a head bent so low.

"Oh hello again."
I'd greet the porcelain
and heave all of the mistakes
that taste so sweet
that Mommy always bakes.

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