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Socks are meant for feet

By Airidas Kondrotas All Rights Reserved ©


Socks are meant for feet

Young man,
with sparkling eyes full of joy
and optimism.
You thnik you are the king of the world.
You think you are mighty.
You think no one can bring you down.
But I’ve seen your kind.
Hell, I was once like you.
Full of optimism,
thinking the world was my oyster.
Believing I am the king and eveyrone should bow to me.
Walking with my head held high.
But I’ve been there
done that.
This is not the way things go.
The universe doesn’t give a shit about a small fry like you.
It will fuck you up.
Beat you down,
and will keep kicking you,
while you lay in the pool of your own blood and vomit.
You may think you will overcome this,
You will get up and keep going.
You’re wrong.
It may look like you’re on your feet again,
high and mighty
but the world will fuck you up again.
You think you are strong,
rowing against the current,
getting back up,
but as soon as you realise:
Life doesn’t give a shit about you,
the sooner you can start enjoying it,
because socks are meant for feet.

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Further Recommendations

novicemaster: The imagery in this prose poem is glorious. I love the way you manipulate words. You seem to have harnessed them to bend to your every whim. The slightly archaic ones like "whilst" make this resemble a fairytale. The entire idea of a prose poem is brilliant. I didn't get the ending at first, but ...

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