with strangers

the wringing of hands
is constant.
her feet are swollen
no one
visits anymore,
they beat
their chests in sorrow.
they've grown weary
of the sadness
that old age brings.
her feet are swollen.
she cries alone.
they bring her puzzles
and books,
things to write on,
but those days are gone.
she just wants
to die anywhere but
here, with strangers
away from home.