I'm sorry this text is so short, but at least I managed to share something with you today. It is a bit like a metaphor, all written using personification. I hope you can see what I meant when I wrote it. Thank you for your support, dear reader.
Hope stood there, in the deserted alleyway, hidden away by the shadows as dark as death itself. Her once frail and delicate poise seemed to have crumbled into pieces. Her alluring copper curls were covered in dark stains of ink. They had lost their glossiness and were now a dull shade of chestnut brown that no longer glittered in the moonlight. Her peachy, porcelain-like skin was found under dirty smudges of coal all across her body. Her full, cherry lips no longer formed a merry smile, but were dry and bruised. The dress she wore was torn and ragged, displaying the scars on her sore legs. Her fine, elegant fingers were scratched and bare, shivering in the bitter iciness, no longer in the comfort of formal, silk gloves. Like an ancient and abandoned doll in a playroom, Hope was lost.