My master, the shoe.
Closing around me,
Artificial constraints
That don’t belong.
Leather, fabric, rubber.
I fall into step with
The standards of society.
It gives me protection? Yes.
A place to hide? Sure.
Freedom? No.
Uniformly produced.
Each with its mirror image sitting
Near in the same box;
Only separated by a
Paper-thin tissue.
Holding smells, supposed
Ugliness or colorful specks.
But we are watched closely.
Cloth divides me from
My master, the ultimate
Ruler of my existence.
I am rarely let out of
This cavernous land.
If I’m free, the darkness
Haunts me like I was
Never gone.
My life is not my own.
If it were, my master
Would have never gained control.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.