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The Urge

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Shoes.
You know those things you wear on your feet?
When I was a kid, they weren’t that neat.
I’m not a girly type of kid, you see?
Forget the mall I’ll go climb a tree.
“You’ll like them when you’re older”.
My mother used to say, throwing me over her shoulder.
Then I was dragged to the mall.
When it came to shoes my mother wanted them all.
I never saw a shoe a felt my heart surge.
I guess I was a special child: immune to The Urge.
Shoes.
I was dragged to the shoe store the other day.
When I remembered hearing my mother say,
“Your feelings will change, like I’ve seen”.
But now I’m the age of sixteen.
I stepped into the store.
I saw shoes galore.
My eyes widened in awe.
Some shoes seemed so cute it should be against the law.
I wanted to take them so they’d be all gone.
I shouted: “I want to try them all on!”
I wanted so badly for this filthy want to be purged.
I knew I had fallen victim to The Urge.




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