Standing with my feet nailed into a pair of high heel shoes
The sky shoots slivers of light into my eyes
Ruining the perfect chance I ever had to rip free
But no matter how hard I pull
I can't find away out of them
It doesn't matter how many times I change my face in the mirror
It seems to become less of the real me every morning
So with my aching shoulders and heavy feet I know
I am not me in these high heel shoes.
The sky shoots slivers of light into my eyes
Ruining the perfect chance I ever had to rip free
But no matter how hard I pull
I can't find away out of them
It doesn't matter how many times I change my face in the mirror
It seems to become less of the real me every morning
So with my aching shoulders and heavy feet I know
I am not me in these high heel shoes.
1st poem for poetry month
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