Fat isn't a swear word until you let it be,
it doesn't count as a swear word, according to me.
It describes the curvacious the large, + the round,
could be worse, like obese or something profound.
I don't care much for skinny, or size six or less.
I'd rather be happy, and big, I confess.
Not giving up chocolate or shakeshacks to see,
a skinnier, lighter and miserable me.
Flick your tacky extensions in my general way,
might be aesthetic but you don't have much to say.
I'd rather be Dawn French than suffer within,
to sacrifice indulgence to be less is a sin.
Give me a chocolate, a cream and a cake,
trying to be anything less ... would make me fake.
My mind is a treasure, a gift for now and ever.
But looks fade with time, as fickle as the weather.
Your tans will soon fade and so will your looks,
you'll be too thick to learn from my beloved books.
You can say shit behind my back, but I can still see.
Your culture has fucked you but hasn't fucked me.
Morn Sweet Song