Dead meat

Dead Meat 

(feet)

                                                                                                             

                                                                                                           

There they are on the end of my legs, 

Strange horrid things that sometimes look dead. 

When I'm sitting they sometimes look blue, 

Other times when  I've been running they take on a violet hue .

I paint the ends red, the bits that stick out! 

Supposedly they look pretty , it something,

I doubt!

We wrap them up in black leather and  brown suede, 

We hide them away so they aren't on parade.

Ugly, painted pretty ,covered or bare, 

They're something we need and should always be there

But if you see mine promise

 Don't Stare 

Jingle Poetry Potluck