Leather straps and metal clasps provide exquisite torture,
Hanging from the closet wall and nesting under furniture.
Stuffed in cubbies, stacked on shelves, and piled to the ceiling.
Underfoot at every turn, surprise that sends me reeling.
Truly, this belongs to shoes, and I just spend the night.
The house becomes a booby trap once I turn out the light.
They multiply like roaches, if you see a pair or two,
There's 50 more beneath the bed that hide just out of view.
What's worse, they stalk me night and day, whenever we go out.
No matter what we set to do, a shoe sale lurks about.
No! Those shoes do NOT look cute; what's pretty here is you!
They only look like wasted space and money down the tube.
You say you want to get them just in case you have a need.
In case of ... What? You turn into a giant centipede?
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