Bad poem about food and feelings

For breakfast I had potatoes

Fruit

Yogurt and granola

like I do almost every morning

I drank coffee and tea

and took my supplements

like I do almost every morning

I walked back to my dorm and finished homework.

For breakfast my roommate had grapes

while she listened to music 

like she does almost every morning.

I worry about her sometimes

4 foot nothing

skin and bones

I know I am not her mom.

I know I am different.

But I worry sometimes

I compare what is on my plate 

to every friend I ever had.

Am I overeating?

but my aunt says I am fine

Food is not just a way to survive

but a joy as well.