Pulling out
Yet another
Splinter
From the
Heel of
My over
Callused
Foot
Climbing the
Tree was not
One of my best
Ideas
Doing it barefoot
Probably makes
It my
Worst
At sixteen
I should have
Long outgrown
This
Scraping my
Knees
Elbows
And the
Palms of my hands
But how do you
Out grow
Beauty
Freedom
And
Flying
Feeling, hearing
Touching, listening
To the words of
The wind


Pulling out
Yet another
Piece of glass
From the
Ball of
My over
Callused
Foot
Running around
In the city
Was not one
Of my best
Ideas
Doing it barefoot
Probably makes
It my
Worst
At sixteen
I should have
Long outgrown
This
Pounding of blood
Empty thoughts
And the
Harsh breathing
But how do you
Out grow
Beauty
Freedom
And
Flying
Feeling, hearing
Touching, listening
To the sounds of
Feet on asphalt