All around me, I see people worn and torn in the same fashion; this never used to be, and the curious part is that most accept this as the new normal. It isn’t; you can change your soles, but your soul stays put, and that one is eternal. There is no new normal, just a bunch of people trying to convince you there is; stick it out, all things come full circle, either in this world or the next. Wear your beat-up heart, hold to the convictions you were born with. A new soul won’t be near as easy to break in as news boots, trust me.

SOUL TO SOLE

Walking on boots, ground so close to the feet,

Leather is worn some, these shoes about beat.

A new pair of footwear, one of my goals,

Finances hurting, take care of those soles.

Whole world a nightmare, morals a shamble,

What redeems us, for answer I scramble.

Feeling uncertain, on life as a whole,

Living with this hate is hurting my soul.

Life in the woods can go barefoot, I guess,

Here core or rawhide, haven’t any stress.

Still outside beckons, while on silent stroll,

Forces entangle beyond all control.

Insides say do something, don’t sit or play,

Legs keep their motion on to the next day.

Sometimes feeling like square peg in a round hole,

No one cares to notice; situation droll.

Seems like the poor heart, much like my sad boots,

Beat up and walked on, madness in cahoots.

Would like to have normal, that time someone stole,

Surefooted, heart happy, secure sole to soul.