A slice of metal beneath my feet
It feels like I'm standing on pins
Soles red, not from anger
Cannot stand it for much longer
They say it's fashion
I say it's torture
Clinging to my ankles ever so tightly
Rings of dent showing ever so furiously
One grassy Sunday I went out
And found them stuck on the ground
Stuck on the ground along with myself
Now they're just rotting on the shelves
Looks good, from the outside
Impractical is what they are
No more stilettos on Sunday
My toes are hollering "hooray!"















Comments