July 15, 2008 -i wrote
But I like my canvas shoe.
Dragged it through the snow,
The art class,
Family picnic,
Walked under the sun
can almost smell
The time back then
can almost feel
That young, raw soul
Burning with anger, passion
Trying to understand
Everything
That’s why
It’s still on the shoerack
Underneath all the other shoes
No one’s bothered to throw
Its there you know
For the memory
It holds for me.
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