End Of Hope

They say the shoe says it best
But her hands hold tales to tell.
Both hot and cold waters they held
Now they remain hard as the life she knows best.

Her back stretched,
Her eyes deep-seated, weary of being wrecked,
Her soul has been through prickly tunnels
Yet the light proves better in escapes.

She is the daughter of life itself
For her mother is reduced to whatever can be left,
Her body has fought and her strength waned
She now remains a carcass of her former days.
Their roof tells of nights they have slept wet,
The walls whisper of dinners of moist bread,
With painful creaks, their chairs dread to break,
Their door has grown tired of the wait
To welcome a good day.

To her, luck is that friend the gods sent
Yet only plays with children well fed,
Twice, defile of innocence she has tasted
And her tears flushed down the drain.

Now she stares at her end,
She dreads the pain
But she wishes for a rest,
Even in a void unknown, she seeks rest
And life is the only thing in her way.