Bringer

A poem I wrote for fun.

Bringer

“How beautiful are the feet...”
Not mine.
Because I walk barefoot
At school.

“How beautiful are the feet...”
Not mine.
They go everywhere bare even
The horse pasture.

“How beautiful are the feet...”
Not mine.
A night in the past they moved
Over broken glass.

“How beautiful are the feet...”
Not mine.
Rain soaked but also friction
Burned.

“How beautiful are the feet...”
Not mine.
Never bring good news
Anyway.