These dirty feet from dusty roadsAgainst old sheets seem not so crude.
Without the leg they could be old
And worn from years of walking home.
Dark lines show where the sandals lay;
Places unhidden from the day.
Blisters that rise in pained dismay
Grow hard and strong along the way.
Blue veins beneath translucent skin.
Thin channels where my life’s blood swims.
They feign a weakness not within.
The blue beneath is not so dim.
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