The Visit

She looks pale under the fluorescent lights
all translucent and ghost like.
Eyes distant, glassy, vacant
a porcelain doll who's lost her charm.
Her creativity ran like wet paint, leaking down the drain in the floor
Drip, drip, drip go the droplets
leaving but a shell behind, so dry and brittle a breath could shatter it.
Her knotted hand digs in a hand woven basket for something
Digging mindlessly, searching deperately for her sanity
but the basket is empty.
An eerie grin creeps across her cheeks, scarred from the carnage
Dreaming, she must be dreaming of the horror she witnessed so long ago
but won't ever forget.
It's the only thing she seems to remember now.
She's all alone
I know she can't feel my presence
she didn't even know I was there.
So I back out slowly, silently
and shut the cell door.