The damn concrete left a streak on my Vans.
I was falling now, but I could still notice the scrape from this
What will the coroner think
When he spots the scuff on my sneaker?
“No wonder why he did it.”
If I wasn’t so focused on leaving a good impression
On this Earth
I would reach up and wipe it clean.
No. Instead I will brace my face,
Stick to the plan when I land:
A smirk as if to say,
“No big deal. Nothing to see here”.
I can’t wait.
The cracks are visible now
And the people scatter
And I matter.