One boot makes a track in the dusty lane.
The other dissolves into an air of pain.
The path I walk is shadowecsd in doubt.
The twisting of trails submerged in life's clout.
They all march past me, arrogant and strong.
Without missteps, their boots never wrong.
They smile and say beautiful things.
Behind their eyes are words that sting.
Never pausing to consider their way.
They are puppets in a real-life play.
Demeaning other's lives without a clue.
They are no better than me or you.