it's course and cruel and hagged
i see the road to home, again.
It's lackluster, it's comforting smooth and hollow.
I borrow these painful shoes
from My Mother, they don't feel right
I feel as though they cause my feet to put one
footstep print in front of another
Creating trails, deep prints that never should have
been made,
be walked, by no creature, no poet, certainly no child.
