Swapping shoes


Everyday, every hour, every passing thought
Requires me to swap my shoes. When I am a stand in
Mother flat, comfortable pumps are on, in another
Second I am acting my age, prancing in heels and
Acting like they don’t cause me pain. But
Then I am a daughter, my parents baby so back
In booties I find my feet.

But really my shoes are obvious, red and glittery,
Reaching a height of maturity, which balances my
Life so precariously…but the second I tap my
Heels together I fly home, back to the safety of
My nest where I can don other shoes.


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