Oh
My toe
Is filled
With woe
Because one
Sad solo
Sock and shoe
Overflows
With wet ice
And freezing snow
But I won't show
Or let anyone know
The cold I feel
Numbing me slow
I know
It will grow
But onwards
I go
So
I guess
My warmth
I owe
To this foe
I realized
Long ago
I can't or won't
Overcome
Overthrow
Or say no
To chilly air  
That through me flows
Without fail
Stealing my glow
Although
I suppose
I'm used to it though
This evil villian
That stays down low
Underneath
My feet
Below

I am three
and the grass beneath my feet
is young too
there is wind
and a bird song
and I am happy

I dreamt within the confines of my room,
              of a place where the white moments
                                              gathered in ease.

Collections within  them.

                                        Every negative
     and slowly asphyxiating gathering
being buried within
          the confides of a blanched confinement.

No longer where there shadows of before,
collecting in pools bellowing the fumes of


                                                        ill repercussions.

Instead the flakes of ******* highs drowned
             every moment out with delusion highs..


For within the white molecule,
        was a specific reflection.


And I never gazed deeply,
in fear of being
                          blinded with the truth.

Covers everything in a shallow grave
                of white mummers
crunching under foot.

Before

My feet are big
And growing ever bigger.
Large, wide,
And filling every shoe.
They stick out from me
Making flats look ridiculous.
They are like life rafts,
Falling to the side like pillows
When encountering resistance.

After

My feet are long
And growing ever stronger.
Supportive, storied,
And deserving special care.
When pointed, they are elegant,
Skeletal and muscular, even when in heels.
They are like canoes,
Chiseled and carved with love,
Gliding forward with intention.