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Happy Shoes
By Naman Crowe
I have a pair of happy shoes
I wear when I get the blues.
One is worn
And torn
And ragged.
The other is long
And loose
And tragic.
They don’t really fit together
But they get me through the weather.
I fact, I have them on.
One wants to go home.
One wants to roam.
I never know which is right
And which is wrong.
It may sound sappy,
But wherever they go,
They make me happy.
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