Old Shoes

Frayed, worn, battered. Surrendered to the null, grit and void buried inside.
Though they still hold.

Soles scraping on the cold concrete.
Though they do not tear.

Been ran on, dropped on, even thrown across the child’s room a few times.
Though they are still there.

Had to listen to the other kids gloating about their new kicks.
But, they still serve.

Had to hear you complaining to your parents about wanting new ones.
But, they still do their jobs.

Why?
They have no choice.