Objects Left Helpless and Forgotten

Ten thousand used cigarette butts line the sidewalk,
while a blackened, forgotten shoe has been left to the wayside
it watches traffic pass, not asking for a helping foot
or a matching shoe to place adjacent to it,
if only for comfort

homes crushed by quaking forces of gaia
bodies, like biscuits, crumbling under thunderous strength
the black shoe starves for attention,
while humans forgot where it came from
where they originated

Trying to crush hatred below the sky,
and cannot even feign sacred cries
how  a prophetic never lies

The levers cry out for attention, but the black shoe is left on the wayside
ignored by all who pass it by, for they have shoes of their own
don’t need its decrepit protection from the elements
now, the elements rain against it

the pace never changes, while the weather swirls dust-ridden ranges
patient pasture awaits its drink,
while a single patient lingers, deep in double-think

the black shoe will eventually perish, imitating all life
shortened attempts of longevity
wishes for limitless bounds
bliss found in frigid shrouds
kissing feet of rigid sows