Young girls always marvel at the sight,

Of two red heels gleaming in the light.

Fascinated by the glow,

They yearn for their own heels to show.

Wishing to walk a little taller,

Elevated on a confidence booster.

Their first pair of heels lift them up high,

Matching the sparkles in their eyes.

They take a wobbly first step,

Quickly followed by the next.

Soon enough they start to stride,

The thin platform allows them to stride.

It doesn’t take long for one wrong move,

That makes an ankle throb.

Step after step,

Harder to survive,

Walking on knives.

For years and years,

Walking on air,

Pretending to look fair.

Beauty is pain,

And pain is beauty.

It doesn’t matter if our real heels,

Are redder than crimson shoes.

This is simply

The cruel reality.