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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #939718

I visited a place of old pain. It still hurt. A metaphor.

Seeking something lost
I slipped them on-
Walking worn,
Scarred and scuffed,
Leather shaped by long embrace
Of weary feet.
I wish that I could keep them on,
But some flaws
Time cannot erase.

They still hurt.

© Copyright 2005 Lobelia is truly blessed (mamahobbit at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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