It is one amenity of the laces,
Footwear stands on the floor of blue bricks,
Fading into the existence,
Like an essential flaw of the men and women.
Aqueducts of good seeming experience,
Fall into the lots and losses,
Faults are on the side of the wearer,
Never reimburse the footman,
As extra features stand out in trimness.
A hazel toffee is sweeter than the feet
Of caught cauldrons, casually worn
By the feelers of the people inside.
One day a shoe speaks and laughs
As you like the stain in the bedrooms of religion.
The context is the key to exiting feet,
Shoes are the very brittle soldiers
Of a fine war of words.
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