Dead skin flakes off toes,
the red of blood doesn’t mean stop
but it’s time to finally pass go.
The sweat goes from bitter to sweet
every mile broken.

Toenails kept short,
for fear they’ll break and cut
toes taped together ankles wrapped.
Not beaten or broken
just on the path of getting stronger.

The top of each hill is beauty,
breath taken away,
but only for an instance,
the next hill is along the horizon.

Dead skin flakes off toes,
the start of a journey
no one plans to take.

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