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White Shoes?
All white shoes. White textiles. White laces. White leather, rubber, foam. Everywhere, white. No designs. No brands. White forevermore? Run through the mud. What a shame! Black! How to get them clean? Wash, scrub, wipe, brush, rinse! White?
No. Close, but blemishes. Never again to be pristine. A lesson learned.
But ah! No mud! A path! A trail! A road! ...not traveled. Yellow wood, on both sides. Bending undergrowth. Leaves on dirt. Dirt! Not mud! But oh! Shoes, no longer almost white. Brown! White shoes, brown! Wash, scrub, wipe, brush, rinse! White?
No. Close, but blemishes. Never again to be pristine. A lesson learned.
Tread carefully. Careful steps. Streets, sidewalks, walkways, tracks. Oh? Still white? Clean shoes? Maybe! Keep walking! Frolic! Dance! Run! Still Clean! Wait... no. Not clean. A flaw. A blotch. How? But ah! It is so! Hurry, quick! Wash, scrub, wipe, brush, rinse! White?
No. Close, but blemishes. Never again to be pristine. A lesson learned.
Keep walking? Yes. But no hazards. None! ...None? Clean floors. Swept carpet. Mopped linoleum. Waxed hardwood. Polished Italian marble. White shoes. White shoes. White shoes. White shoes. White shoes. No running here. No dancing. Scamp? Romp? Prance? No. No fun. Prudent steps. Always. The award? The reward? White shoes. White shoes? No. A speck. A particle. A pinprick. A grain. A trace of dust. No! The effort! Down the drain! What else to do? Wash, scrub, wipe, brush, rinse! White?
No. Close, but blemishes. Never again to be pristine. A lesson learned?

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I wrote this poem to vent my frustration with trying to be perfect. White is a symbol of pureness. When we mess up, we might be able to make up for it, or "clean the shoe". The shoe will never be that bright white ever again, and we can never say we didn't mess up. But no matter how hard we try to "tread carefully", we can never be perfect. It's a lesson we need to learn so that we aren't shaming ourselves for not being our version of perfect.