Old Boots

Wash me

I’m stained

Worn out


Troden in



Burnt in



Broken in boots

Longing to be new

Peeling sores

and thin

where the toes have rubbed in

Crooked sole

keeps you from walking straight

carrying the weight of every pavement

A foot print waiting to be filled

I want to be new

greeting the floor for the first time


with optimisim

But even new blisters

You either wear down the shoe

or it wears in you.

Published by sincerelyeukarya

Writing from London. Photographs from the author's adventures. Icon image is by an unknown graffiti artist in Havanna, Cuba; the disordered numbers ask you to question what you have been told.

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