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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Lite Creative

Submitted: August 12, 2016

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Submitted: August 12, 2016



Don't follow me,

Don't do what I do,

For I'm not always right,

This I thought you knew.


With the wind in my hair,

And my feet on the pavement,

My footsteps they echo,

Like the shot of a cannon.


I walk this long road,

With nothing on my feet,

Waiting for that moment,

That rain turns to sleet.


I leave footprints on the beach,

To show which way I went,

My sister says each and every one of them,

Helps me represent who I am.


In life we all leave footprints,

We leave then anywhere we choose,

Our footsteps represent us,

This we cannot afford to lose.


Footsteps echo in the distance,

They terrify the mouse,

The footsteps grow more powerful,

They even shake the house.


Step by step,

We together make progress,

But where there is progress,

There is also back steps.


Everywhere I go,

I tend to leave a mark,

And it seems to be the spark,

That'll make everything dark.


Here I walk with broken footsteps,

Footsteps that were long forgotten,

So long forgotten by  time,

That even I can't retrace them.

© Copyright 2018 Matt Johnson. All rights reserved.

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