Face Value


My shoes are a sweatshop
Salt stains break the drought
A worldwide network
Coated with the liquid of hard work
My shoes are a bank investment
Business companies skyrocket
Owners regurgitate their pride, hopefully
The second time it tastes better denying reality
My shoes are pain
Whips that kiss the skin
Burns cover the evidence of oppression
An act of desperation
My shoes are the mist of ugly truth
A burden that bursts open wounds
Celebrities strut their counterfeit like armor
Printed on ads, in every newspaper
My shoes are the factory fire in Bangladesh
The scent of burnt flesh
Bars unable to melt from this prison
Reaching out for motion
My shoes are hope
Waiting from sunrise to sunset for a sign like Job
Daydreaming through windows
Of all, my shoes are a constant reminder
That their occupation isn't for a foot to be placed
But that suffering has a face

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