Roaming Frames

This poem I wrote is for all the people who have a love-hate relationship with their weight and scale.

In a world of weights and measures, I stand still,

Bound by numbers that refuse to yield.

I move with purpose, each stride a plea,

Yet the scale’s verdict eludes me.

Morning light greets my determined face,

A ritual of sweat, a race to erase

The doubt, the fear, the silent cry,

Why won’t these numbers comply?

I push through pain, embrace the grind,

Seeking solace, a peace of mind.

Yet, despite my toil, the needle stays,

In its place, unmoved, betraying my days.

Oh, scale, cruel keeper of my despair,

Do you not see the strength I bear?

Every pound, every inch, a story untold,

Of battles fought, of courage bold.

Trapped in this cycle, I question my worth,

As if numbers define my place on this earth.

But deep within, a whisper calls,

A reminder that strength isn’t measured by falls.

It’s in the resilience to rise again,

To face each day with a renewed pen.

My journey is more than the weight I bear,

It’s in every breath, each step, the love I share.

So, I’ll keep moving, despite the scale’s lie,

For I am more than numbers, I’ll reach the sky.

In every heartbeat, in every stride,

I’ll find my freedom, my place to reside.