You wanted to try my slippers on
said you wanted to walk in my shoes
your feet cut to shreds on my barbwire slippers
Have you no excuse?

you decided so easily that I am dead,
inside
you decided so easily that I am the boogieman,
at night
how does it feel in my slippers?
How does it feel in my slippers?

my slippers are pain
the pain endured by futile judgements
my scabs are each a story
which will make no sense
to you, pretender…

you decided so easily that I am dead,
inside
you decided so easily that I am the boogeyman,
at night
how does it feel in my slippers?
How does it feel in my slippers?

I have lived with my feet
a thousand years
I have overcome
all my fears
I am the tip of the iceberg
lurking
I am the voice of reason
creeping down your spine
now go judge yourself
and leave me to me
my feet, my slippers, myself, my soul, mine,
you can’t have it…

how does it feel in my slippers?
How does it feel in my slippers?

(c) 2012 Allen Simpson

Reworked from an earlier poem, Inspired by Nine Ince Nails

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