I looked down at my sneakers,
All tattered and falling apart.
They had been placed on my feet,
Right at the start.
Starting at a light hidden hue,
Hiding the neon beneath.
Running from everything,
With such a strange motif.
Stepping on caterpillars and twigs,
Kicking up some dirt.
Not having a clue what was ahead,
Just an innocent little squirt.
So unprepared were the sneakers,
For quite the crazy journey.
Like running up and down roller-coasters,
Sometimes ones not so sturdy.
Those sneakers had grays, blacks, blues,
And even pinks.
Reds not so often,
As one may think.
Those sneakers transformed like a caterpillar,
Right into a butterfly.
They exposed their true colors,
Seemingly not so shy.
Now they go through another stage,
Yet another change to overcome.
The ups and downs of everything,
Wearing them down to a crumb.
They are tattered and falling apart,
Yet pretty and special in their own way,
Still on my feet,
To be worn throughout another day.