How did we get here?


How did we get here?
Why is she sat here?
Looking afraid,
of glass of milk, and a pb & j.
How did we get here?
Was it the doctor,
who almost destroyed her,
an eight year old girl,
by showing skinny down her throat.

Or perhaps,
it was a memory of the past,
a nickname for her,
when others were mad.
A banning of pleasure,
her worth being measured,
by how big a number was.
Or was the way,
she started to grow?
She was only seven,
How could she know?
How could she know it was only a process,
A process that she,
would soon overcome.
Or did she? I’m fourteen now, and I still don’t know.

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