Shoe Gaze
My shoes tell me who I am.
All Day I Dream About Self.
Too blue, blaring eyesore.
A too large tongue stuck out.
Tied tightly with a final knot.
Walks over everyone. Stood on.
Tramples everything. Trampled on.
Treads softly on temporary ground.
The last vestige of the ghost of
purpose.
Legs peddling endlessly until almost worn
down to the sole, until only the shoes remain,
like stumps of axed Wonder boom or Cedars of God.
like stumps of axed Wonder boom or Cedars of God.
3 comments:
pretty nice blog, following :)
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The more I read this poem the more complex it becomes. I had to Google "Wonder boom" and "Cedars of God". I've most definitely been educated.
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