The Girl and Her Doc Martens

To the girl and her Doc Martens, 

who I met in the shadows

of a birthday party.

You were smart, and you were funny

and you hate crowds just as much as I do.

 

You wear your clothes black

and flash a glare at anyone who comes too near.

I didn’t realize why you were so quick to seem angry.

But, as we grew closer, 

I grew closer to your fears.

 

You’re from a land in the east,

The southern half of a tiny peninsula.

You came here with an accent thicker than

Your mother’s red bean paste.

And you were scared.

 

But I was scared, too.

Maybe that’s why we got so along.

I just lost a friend of my own

I’ve never told you this,

but you were my first friend in a while.

 

I don’t know what I would do

had I not met you.

You put my broken pieces back together.

So, to the girl and her Doc Martens;

thank you.

 

This poem is about: 
My community

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