My Muse Poem by Marie WardAlonge

She lives inside.
Thriving, conniving, and planning my demise.
I can't break free.
Sometimes, I stay awake.
Her appeal and her hunger are too strong for me to shake.

She pretends to be my best friend.
She allows me to struggle with one of the seven deadly sins.
Tempting me with what I love most.
Handing me offers of chocolate, cookies, and ice cream to get close.
She does whatever to please.
My esteem is teased.

She makes me think I am a smaller size even in my dreams.
I awake up believing I can get into those size 14 jeans.
She doesn't like me-this I know.
She tells me to eat one more.
I know she's not managing my calories score.

What a little snitch.
She can be a little *itch.
My extra pounds show.
She is laughing at me before I can walk out of that door.

Sometimes, she gives me false hope.
To get me through another meal so I can cope.
I have to get her tamed.
She is my enigma.
She is my pain.

This, I am certain.
She has to realize deep down I am hurting.
Her ambition is to upstage.
She feeds on my weakness and my inner rage.
They are as strong as the food I crave.

I know I have to get a grip.
I want to give her the slip.
It won't be an easy fix.
Knowing what makes me tick,
She matches my wits.

She's a formidable witch with clout.
Giving me a potbelly that pouts,
I know I have to get that '*itch' out!
When coming to food, she is my second-hand excuse.
If not careful, I might lose my man too.

For right now, I live in her shoes.
She's my addiction, my disorder, my genetic disease-whatever you want to call it.
I am not at ease.

It's difficult to follow.
Imagine how I feel.
The concept is difficult for me to swallow.
Oddly but creatively, she inspires me.
To give up, I refuse.
She is my dependent-a delinquent.
She is my muse.