I am a shoe. Not made of leather, not made of straw. But I still have a sole. A soul on which my existence depends upon. I am of no use. I will be just a body without life, reason and purpose. Just like every other person.
People need me but still walk on me.
I protect you, dance with you. You wear till I tear
Size does matter. I come in all shapes and sizes. Colours and combinations. High and mighty, low and down to earth. I take the shape of the person I am with. If you are not mine then the soul doesn’t fit. Yet I mould. Mould fighting. Scratch and cut. Scar for life but I heal.
Sometimes I am stolen away. Momentarily carried to a world unknown- smells, sounds and paths. I am no more for the previous, no more old but new for the present. The place I am put but still remains the same.
As I slip unto the floor, I lie, he walks to the door nearby...
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You are who you choose to be
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The copyright of all the pictures on the blog solely lies with the photographer.
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8 Scribbles:
Damnation!!!
I know u tuk hardly a few minutes to come up with this...and I am still marvelling at how simply and compellingly you wrote this piece.
Last para is the story of our times...
the last line an irony of our lives...
Neat template...but somehow I think the old one was much more you...
What happens with the shoe and the soul going in shit???
EWWWWWWWWWWWW
Last line has been inspired by Emily Dickinson's soul in you...
No I know why you have an sir of ancient fragrance about you...
I spake thus...
you din like that templet when i asked you before
you said its too girly......!!!!
Nice one. :)
@prude: u inspired me to write this one...
@pricky: ancient fragrance or yesterday's perfume???
@fancypants: I changed my mind
@AC: thanks!!! and welcome back!
@pricky: YOU CALD ME OLD... !!!! Shnifffflleessss
awsome! i'm in awe really t, this is brilliant. u'll make me famous yet :)
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