My master, the shoe.

1 Comments

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.

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trocka7 commented on My master, the shoe.

09-12-2009

this is a very cool poem, I really liked it very much! The lines "My life is not my own./ If it were, my master/ Would have never gained control." are insightful in so many ways....

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

twiga1693’s Poems (7)

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