You scratch along my breasts, hands like claws, demanding the replenishment of my chest
Squeeze my waist until it resembles no other dream than yours
Making my hips heavy with the birth of your woes and demons
My legs are heavy and in pain; you think they ground me to this Earth but all I feel are chains
My legs, they cry out
But all you see is my maternal gain
The sway of my hips that cause me harm, imbalances and misaligns me but bears your sins
How can you be so content when I writhe with agony?
Why do you not see the tragedy of this weight you forced upon me?
Trapping me and immobilising me of any sense of personal sovereignty
You act like you own me.
My depression in your eyes is a blessing.
You even continue cursing me, filling me with toxicity till my waist-beads struggle with the capacity
Eating your insanity for dessert and your disdain for starters
Chefs after my own heart.
Seeking to find it and bind it in layers of waste and fat.