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If You Were in my Shoes

by Rita Webb
© 2001
If you were in my shoes, you'd talk all day,
Your new white Mercedes, my old Chevrolet,
Tho' we drive the same streets, our paths never cross;
We meet face to face, conversation a loss.

My body stays here while my soul speaks to God.
You climb Mount McKinley and hope I'll applaud.
Your fabulous vacations, my dayruns down South;
Your talk picks up where my words leave off.

The people I know and the air in my space
Take up where your life falls flat on its face;
But I don't speak of it to any of your kind,
My silence a puzzle to your haughty mind.

I'm only trying to slip through the cracks,
Falling to a place where I'll never get back.
You have your bright fortune, you flaunt it with pride.
You hope no one sees your soul's suicide.

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