Seven And A Half.

Sometimes I feel like a pair of shoes-
Its not like I haven’t been worn and used,
Or got grown tired of,
Or outgrown- im confused.
I’ve been gazed at by “buyers” with not enough cash,

Staring at me with longing then scorn.
And looked over by the perfect feet that walk right on past,
Because I wasn’t their style, I was torn.
I was born an emotional girl prone to frown,

Always looking to "fit" with someone else.

Just stuck sitting around waiting to be found,

A distressed pair of shoes on the shelf.