A Dieter's Despair

Oh my soul, be thou quiet
This is not 'another diet'
Just a program of exchange
Though some things do seem strange

Raw vegetables and 'brock-o-lee'
Does not sound too good to me
Lots of tofu and bean sprouts
While my empty stomach shouts

The meaning here is quite plain;
This program is designed for pain
Someone with anorexia planned
A program that tastes like sand

My hands are sweating, my soul is dreading
I must keep this thing from spreading
My only hope, the paper shredder
It finally made this diet better