Porescophobia

To fear gaining weight,
I’m already living my fear
Every day one more pound,
And I’m still only half way there.
The fortitude of starvation
Is becoming ever more attractive
To my short-coming eye.
I don’t see my heart growing stronger
So why not my stomach.
Not to say I’d diverge
Or necessarily take away
But to merely get rid of
This is what I wish.
For the sake of my
Porescophobia.