Let them be as dress shoes,
always proper and clean,
but contained to just floors and perfect people.
I’d rather be old sneakers,
messy and muddy, like a young child-
playful and full of joy.
To experience life for the first time,
to explore new places
I never knew existed.
To be worn down by my adventures,
making new memories with every mark
and tear.
I’d rather be worn, and even if
then not be seen as beautiful,
then to be a scratch-less dress shoe,
complimented and admired
by confined, mature humans.
I’d rather be dirty and disgusting
than sparkling, fancy dress shoes.
If I could see the world, venture into new spaces,
I’d rather be old sneakers.
