Sidewalked.

Rustic brown shoelaces;
mud-covered
from the years of unpaid labor.
Layers of sediment
caking the worn soles,
which cover the
warm, splintered feet
of a fourteen year old girl.

Cigarette-yellow toenails;
pedicured by
“services rendered.”
Leading up to
stallion strong legs.
Muscular
from the years
of marching for non-political
reasons.

Sand dusted knees;
layered
with a fine powder
from the time spent crying,
Pleading to god.
Hoping for some sort of
escape,
chariot.
Hoping for her knight
in shining armor,
carrying that twenty.

Callous covered hands;
massaged by
a creamy white lotion.
Once delicate, now
etched from
years of servitude.
Or solitude.

Chocolate brown hair
dangling from
her head,
waving as if for one
last time.
A desperate hope sinking
back into her pores.
Retreating back
into her mind.
Vibrant blue eyes
tantalizing every sense,

Eyes deep as nature,
shallow as the sidewalk
that she’s trapped on.