There is not enough skin, br to cover the bumps in my ribs, br or the bones in my feet br There is not enough fat, br to soften my hips, br or keep me warm in the wind, br There is not enough substance to me, br to keep me up, br or to make me move br I fight for each step, br For control over my body, br I fight to want to eat, br For my health and wellbeing br I fight against being labelled, br for pitying looks and whispers are no ones friend br I fight the need to quit br for i cannot give inbr br Jess Terrybr br