In My Shoes

You wonder why I'm

Dressed like this.

Why my

white shirt is wrinkled

Torn and splattered with mud

Not carefully washed and ironed

Like yours?

You wonder why

I carry my life on my back

Like a turtle,

Why I chose this

(If I even chose it)

Or how I became like


You see my shoes

They were white

The laces were once new

The soles were not worn

And as you are watching me

I say,

“Don't judge a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes.”

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