UUUUUUUUUUguuuguuuugh. Today is no good. So I am writing a poem.
There is a meany Ed,
Who lives inside my head.
He says, "Please don't get fed."
I wish that he were dead.
My body I so hate,
And in my mind I state:
Please don't touch that plate.
Bathroom after I ate.
Maybe one day there'll be
A thought inside of me
That says, "I'm great, you see!"
Til then, I feel heavy.
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