Barefoot.

So this is what it feels like to stretch yourself thin?! Alright then, it’s awesome. Sure in this week alone I’ve made an entire sandwich and ate three-fourths of it before noticing I forgot the main ingredient, turkey! And I’ve been in the shower confused out of my mind honestly trying to remember if I’ve shampooed my hair yet.  But it’s great I’m loving my classes and my new job and I couldn’t be happier. (Just gotta learn how to shut my brain off and relax in my down time!)

In poetry class last night we had to describe our poetry in one word. I went with “horrible”. My professor laughed at me and continued to call on me the entire night to read my work aloud to the class. Apparently I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. No laughs please, but here’s something I created last night in class…

[Barefoot.]

Sometimes,

My inner face is like a map.

Written in a foreign language that

I don’t speak.

Like a toddler in an August corn field,

Lost.

But sometimes I find the code

To know,

To understand,

To be completely sure that I’m headed towards the place

I’m supposed to be going.

And when I think I understand

The untraveled path of gravel and twig

I lose my shoes.

And the soft soles of my feet are victim to

The shattered gravel.

So I rest where I know others have rested before.

I rest until I can’t rest anymore.

I pick up my map with shoes on my feet.

And the map is again not in something I speak.

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