The fluorescent lights blind me as I walk in
Tubes and wires line your skin.
I walk to your side, but you don’t notice.
I try to remember my singular purpose.
I pull up a chair and take seat,
Suddenly overcome with incredible heat.
I brush off my brow, removing the sweat.
The hardest part hasn’t come yet.
I grab your hand, pale white and cold.
Did I mention you look incredibly old?
Your eyes are listless, your skin is sagging
The smell is so horrid I feel like gagging
I talk to you, though you don’t respond.
I begin to cry, knowing my mom is gone.
You don’t react; I knew you wouldn’t.
I’ll come back tomorrow, even though I shouldn’t.
Things will be the same. They always are.
But if you’re to wake, I should never be far.
I leave the room and walk down the hall,
Wishing that I had never come at all.
The nurses they whisper, I know what they said.
“That poor girl looks like the walking dead.”