My Feet Only Define Me in Your Eyes

I wrote this piece after seeing a call for submissions that although I wasn’t applicable for, inspired me anyway.

My Feet Only Define Me in Your Eyes

Native born.
Nature bred.
As I dance
in the streets
over the broken window panes,
and splinters from the frames,
they spy me.
Spray paint soon decorated our house
with crude words,
spelt badly.
Youthful enthusing of life
tip
tapping
from my toes
infecting the cobbles and slabs of concrete,
somehow it was their business.

They thought I was ill,
in need of a cure.
My neighbour,
the physician,
bled me.
His fist,
a leech on my eyelid,
blood
drip
drip
drip
decorating my fallen smile,
the twinkle
of my winkle
pickers
tarnished.

I tip
tapped
no more.

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