leaddoginteriors

Their huddled masses form everywhere, any empty spaces or beneith the stairs, reclessly discarded as if no one cares, the community i call shoes
Every color, size and shape, some like new some repaired with tape, what an awefull mess they make, the community i call shoes
The brown, the black the red and white, some too big and some too tight, stumbled on inthe night, the community i call shoes
We pass them by as we scurry about, offer no helping hand to pull them out, in Gods eyes a sin no doubt, the community i call shoes
They're walked upon, and payed no heed, laughed at and scorned as we watch them bleed, left alone like a banished breed, the community i call shoes
Mental wards, prisons and parks are where our shoes are stored, all once treasured items, but now they are ignored
So no one cares where they go, or what becomes of them, keep them hiden out of sight and get some more again,
our community i call shoes

JolieH

Hey Cal,
This is a very good, a great metaphor that express need and internal suffering. Wonderful use of images, and loaded with symbols that play a magnificent tune. I think we all can relate to this in one way or another. Those shoes may be worn, but they still shine. Just cover the scratches with a good polish, kick the shit out of the road, and keep on dancing.

Aste

Benny

Great work! Lots of life lesson found in this one...hey, I'm a shoe!

nomadicrhymer

Very nice, lead...and VERY original! Great write!

Nomad