Blinding white of their brand-new shoes
That my eyes could never adjust to
Staring downwards, can't tell who's who
So I gaze at my own muddied shoes, like I used to.
Their clarity contrasts with my constant motion blur
Unlike mine, their foundation is solid, befitting a throne
I build mine on quicksand amidst rumble and whir
While they built theirs on bedrock with marble and limestone
They just cruise, their shoes resting easy
On the floor of a family sedan, as I overtake
In my battered Toyota pickup
with broken brakes.
thief of joy
© Copyright: Владислав Вольнов, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126110801074
Свидетельство о публикации №126110801074
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