Feet

My feet are full of extra pieces
That collapse under the pressure as I step into the unsure, and I
Cannot remove them because each is a necessity
So bill me to sustain me till they kill me

An inheritance of brokenness, a glass of shards of glass
And then a cast, a mold reflecting all the fractures in my past
And as the stabilized mechanics let me throw the crutch aside
I feel the warmth of oxycodone mixing with the rush of pride
Ah!

And as the surgeons now reveal me
I will hide my scars by displaying them proudly on my two feet, and I
Will walk along your whitewashed main street, under wooden beams
Which marred themselves have seen a pair of scarred feet

I inherited this "brokenness" which silently He passed
Without a word, though he gave many on our fractures and our lack
Would he welcome these mechanics? Hold a crutch to wounded side?
How much can I love my brother? How much have I killed my pride?
Ah!



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