It is the voice
that whispers
regret,
the regret
that points to
self-pity,
the self-pity
that soaks in
suffering,
the victim
who fears
freedom…

That is the poison
not to take,
no matter
how attached you may be
to your mired down
shoes in a bog of muck…

…wriggle your feet free
and run from there,
leaving the voice,
the poison
behind.

I promise,
you won’t need to go
barefoot for long.