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Something to eat.

To nourish the body.

Starvation to beat.

To cook or have cooked,
or have it delivered.
Are we in, or out, when we eat?.
Fancy or plain,
new or the same?
A cafe, a restaurant, a treat.

With family, with friends,
beginnings to ends,
and all of the ages between.
The happy the sad,
the good and the bad,
through all will food be it seen.

A birthday with tarts,
the joining of hearts,
a breakfast at end of the day.
A seasons event,
with food be it spent,
happy, as children at play.

A loss of a person,
is marked by a wake.
Tis needed to help heal a hole.
Tea and a sandwich,
and maybe some cake,
the food, it comforts the soul.

A connection is made,
of food and of pain,
the comfort of eating,
but weight will I gain.
So punish my body
with sugar and salt.
Eat till it’s painful,
it’s always my fault.

Habit accepted,
my self abuse.
Companies like it,
my habit they use.
Happy they sell us,
with every bite.
Adverts and sales teams,
flexing their might.

Make it addictive,
to profit increase.
Sell it as healthy,
new flavour release.
Turn on unhealthy,
it’s ‘choice’ that they say.
There’s no other reason,
we’ve ended this way.

Psychology and science
to sell food is used.
But treatment when asked for
is often refused.
Or if your accepted
theres often long wait.
So the cycle continues,
with the food that I’ve ate.

A § M 



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