walk in my shoes
the ones with the soles that have holes
the ones that are too big for me
the ones that are damaged beyond recognition
the words, the typing, the pen and pad, my ammunition
see through my eyes
the ones that are blue
the ones that failed to stay true
because they change from blue to gray to crystalline in color
wear my skin
the skin that has been burned
the skin that has scars
the skin that feels like its behind bars
and no, not the ones you go to after a long day of work
use my brain
the one that runs a mile a minute
the one when in one thought, forgets to finish
the one that crashes when life seems to start to diminish
but no not now, because this brain is not anywhere near finish
work with my hands
the ones that are small
the ones that carry the burden of any and all
troubles and strifes and business between soon to be ex husbands and soon to be ex wifes
use my shoulders
which carry boulders
which carry much more than I, Carrie, can carry
try and hold all the weight I hold on five foot three inch tall frame
I tell you this life... is far from a game
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
trippy... quite powerful