For better or worse
I say Phoebe do not force it.
It won’t fit inside your corset.
Those rolls of fat that wobble so
are adamant they will not go.
They do not wish to be constrained.
’t was better far you had remained.
The slim young girl you used to be
and given up on gluttony
Those sweets which you enjoyed so much
have added weight, well just a touch.
Oh Blast it I’ll speak honestly
You are as fat as fat can be.
But I don’t care I love you still
There’s more of you my arms to fill.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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