Life of a Sneakerhead Poem

You got the Jordan’s, Lebron’s, Kobe’s, and KD’S
And you got all the numbers in their series.
Maybe you got Asics, Adidas, or Reeboks,
With special matching graphic socks.
You may have deadstock or some beaters.
Or ones just wanted by the hype-eaters.
Sole protectors, cleaners, and wipes are a must.
Would scream and cry if they had a flick of dust.
Early alarm times and long receipts,
Any type of shoes you call heat.
Matchy-matchy with the little one,
Room filled up but still not done.
Custom kicks or rare joints,
Any shoe made to shoot three points.
Signatures or collaborations,
And party packs for celebrations.
OG colorways with plush leather,
Restorations so they look better.
Display boxes and ziploc bags,
“Damn! You still got the Jumpman tags?”
Trade you for this and trade you for that,
“These will go dope with my new snapback!”
You could have the new releases or old retros,
And you could go to all the launch shows.
You wish your babies go up on sale
But you know they won’t because their everyone’s grails.
And it doesn’t matter how this life is said,
‘Cause you know this is the life of a SNEAKERHEAD.

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Just a young sneaker fanatic who runs and plays softball. Dream of being a graphic designer. Dodgers, Cross-Country, and Shoes.

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