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Messy Footprints

Slow down, honey.

By BeckaPublished 6 years ago 1 min read

Sometimes I want to run through the door,

making messy footprints on the white carpet.

And when I do,

I wonder if the carpet would be spoiled

had I wiped my feet before entering

or not come in at all?

Because every time I do run,

I'm so fast that I'm bound to

forget something.

The unknown hovers above me all day and

I can't

shake

that feeling.

If we're making a mess,

I don't want to clean it up.

I'm overqualified.

I'm overtired.

Overdone.

So please,

calm your voice down.

I don't want the neighbours to hear us.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Becka

25-year-old pisces, sober alcoholic/addict, bipolar, adhd, model/actress & mother to a sweet angel dog & owner of a beat-to-shit Honda Civic & Vancouver, Canada dweller

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    Written by Becka